Comatose
by ShadowDragon-24
Summary: Songfic to Comatose by Skillet' Ulquiorra hated this feeling; this feeling of being used just because he existed. It was degrading and depressing. Grimmjow used him, with seemingly no emotional attachments whatsoever. But, now, he wanted it to be real...
1. Rude Awakening

_**Comatose**_

**Disclaimer:** I Don't Own _BLEACH _or the Song _Comatose_ in Any Way, Shape or Form. _BLEACH_ is Rightfully Copyrighted to Tite Kubo and the Song, _Comatose, _is rightfully Copyrighted to Skillet.

**Rating: **Mature Due to Sexual Themes, Alcohol Usage, Crude Language, Angst and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy.

**A/N: **An idea I had that really matched Grimmjow pretty well :) Ulquiorra's might be kind of OOC, though; I apologize for that =.=

**WARNING: **The following content may not be suitable for young readers; it contains suggestions of sex, includes angst, alcohol usage and yaoi/shounen-ai as well as crude language. No lemons but hardcore suggestions of sex. Plus, some spoilers to the Arrancar arc. You have been warned.

B—L—E—A—C—H

Ulquiorra awoke that morning (or, rather, what they called morning in Las Noches, even though it was still night) in a daze, a headache taking quick control of his forehead. He groaned from that miserable pain at his head before sitting up slowly, a pale hand reaching to his head, tangling themselves between the strands of his messy, ebony hair. Sleep, apparently, hadn't been kind to his appearance that night. He realized his hollow mask was not on his head, figuring it was somewhere nearby. He looked himself over now.

He was shirtless. For him, that was normal; he didn't usually sleep with a shirt. However, beneath the covers, he felt he was definitely nude. How _else _would his legs be able to feel the covers that he never usually felt? He looked back in his memory bank, returning with little results. The young Arrancar could find no valid reason for him being in this position…until he looked around the _room,_ that is.

This area wasn't his own. It wasn't neat and perfect, as he usually kept his room. This room was clean but still slightly out of place. Some clothes were thrown upon the bed, a shirt hanging off a nearby chair, and, at the desk in front of the chair, were papers in a small, messy pile. He suddenly felt nervous but didn't show it. Instead, he wondered why, in the name of Hueco Mundo, he would be in another Arrancar's room.

Every Arrancar he knew was either trash or garbage in his eyes and he only visited them if he needed to. So, again, why would he have _slept_ in one of their rooms? As quickly as the question was formed, another soul made his body go stiff in surprise, even if his eyes didn't show it.

"Hello, sleepyhead." A playful voice was behind that remark; a playfully _sadistic_ voice. Ulquiorra's head slowly turned to his left and he tried to not scream his lungs off at the sight of a full-on, shirtless Grimmjow, sitting up next him with the covers _just barely_ above his hips. His knees came up in front of him and the blue-haired Espada leaned his elbows against them, laying his chin upon his arms. "How's your throat?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ulquiorra demanded, trying to sound emotionless and not bothering to question _why_ they were in bed…together…and pretty much naked.

"Well," Grimmjow said smugly, leaning back on his palms as he seemed to recall the events of the night. "With how many times you screamed my name, I was worried you might have a…sore throat," he explained and promptly smirked a lopsided grin, exposing his canines on one side. It was then that the pieces were slowly coming together in Ulquiorra's mind. He tried to not widen his eyes _too much._ Also, he forced his eye to not twitch.

_We couldn't have, _he thought to himself, suddenly clutching the covers at his hips. _We didn't…_the pupils of his emerald eyes grew small and he suddenly felt slightly self-conscious.

"What's wrong, Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow's voice snapped Ulquiorra out of his thoughts as he jumped five feet in the air, grabbed the nearest pair of pants he could find and sat against the opposite wall, the pants he grabbed covering whatever they could of his lower half. His thoughts ran wild for the first time. He may not be able to grasp emotions all that well but there was one that, for some reason, he knew fairly well; lust. He'd read about emotions and lust was one that seemed to drop humans into the worst scenarios, including one's like this. He, himself, didn't remember_ anything_ but Grimmjow seemed well-equipped with the knowledge the younger was craving.

"What'd you do to me?" Ulquiorra's voice came out stoic but still demanding…for the most part. Grimmjow now came to the foot of his bed, lying on his stomach as he laid his head on his crossed arms, keeping his lower half covered. His bright, blue eyes were playful and mysterious and the smug grin on his lips refused to leave its current residence.

"Nothing that'll kill you, that's for sure," the cat-like Espada responded teasingly. "You even seemed to enjoy yourself." Ulquiorra's right eye almost twitched. Almost. He wanted to kill himself, however. He wanted to kill himself and hope that, wherever he went in whatever afterlife he may have, he would be forced to be put through pain for the rest of eternity. After that, he would want to come back to drag Grimmjow's smug ass there too, and _leave_ him there for a whole _other_ eternity.

So caught up in his homicidal thoughts, Ulquiorra didn't notice that Grimmjow had stood and pulled on some pants and shoes. The Sexta was now working on pulling on one of his jackets. The emerald-eyed Cuatro watched him the whole time until the other was looming over him, hands in his pockets and that damn _smug_ expression on his face.

"Se ya later," he said as his grin grew. "Cuatro Espada, Ulquiorra." With that, Grimmjow walked out of the room, door closing behind him. The moment the door clicked, Ulquiorra stared at the door. A new feeling overwhelmed him. A feeling of being _used; _a feeling of being_ used_ and thrown away. A feeling of being the trash that he dubbed on those around him. The worst part was that the culprit of this horrible feeling was none other than _Grimmjow._

It was like Grimmjow had called _him_ trash and walked away. But the other man hadn't done that; not _once _had he called him trash. That he was aware of, anyway. His green eyes continued staring at the door, a small part of him _hoping _that Grimmjow would return. Another part of him was yelling at him for thinking such frivolous things.

He felt like trash without even being told that he _was _trash. It was horrible. He _knew_ he had been _used_ and it felt like _hell. _The only problem was that he didn't know _how_ Grimmow had done it. Maybe, then, it wouldn't seem so bad.

But he was stuck. Memories of the previous 'day' were fuzzy to him. The last thing he could remember clearly was having tea in the meeting hall with Aizen and the others. He was left with this miserable feeling, as well as the new headache, worst than the first, that was taking over. Bringing up his legs he buried his head into kneecaps and tried his hardest not to let these new feelings take over, even if he _was_ alone.

Rubbing his forehead against his kneecaps he thought. And there he sat, in Grimmjow's room, thinking and thinking and then thinking some more. Nothing; not _one_ clue as to how he got himself into this situation. For all he knew, he could've _willingly_ walked into the Sexta's room and _willingly_ given himself to the other Espada. But he denied that the moment the thought came into his mind.

He had accepted feelings of hate towards Grimmjow a good while ago; he was _not_ about to admit that he would _willingly_ do something like this with the man he supposedly hated. He sat back, leaning his head against the wall, and sighed silently. He tried to stay positive, which was something difficult for him to do. Maybe this was one big hoax, planned out by the other Arrancar, Grimmjow included. He figured there was only one way to find out.

Standing up and pulling on the pants he was holding, he quickly gathered his composure once again, searching now for his jacket. Finding it tossed across the floor he straightened it out as much as he could and pulled his arms through the sleeves, zipping it up to his throat afterwards. Once accomplished with that, he pulled on his own shoes and made sure he was decent enough to get to his _own _room and change. Finding his hollow mask, he placed it, carefully, on his head and proceeded. Fixing his hair, so it would be as straight as it _usually_ is, he headed to Grimmjow's door and let out a breath.

Eyes trying to stay emotionless, his pale hand placed itself upon the door knob and he turned it, opening the door again and stepping out into the hallway. The coast was clear. Closing the door behind him, his hands, unconsciously, went to his pockets as he headed to his room just two doors over. He could hear his heart pounding, loudly, in his chest, suddenly. Also, he felt as if he should be looking in every direction.

Did paranoia come with feeling used? Was being nervous a side-affect of this miserable feeling? If it was, then Ulquiorra hated this more and more with each passing second. Of course, this was only adding to his hatred to Grimmjow. He made it to his room, finally.

Opening the door easily enough, he slinked his way in, closing the door silently…and locking it. He felt safer within the confines of his small abode; everything was familiar here, everything was where it should be. The bed was neat, the papers at his desk were atop each other in a perfect pile, and all his clothes were folded and put away in their specified place. It looked the exact _opposite_ of how he felt. Even if he didn't show it, hiding it all behind a mask of nothingness, his feelings were in a jumble. They were messy, confused and strewn across his mind in a violent haze of trying to realize what _had_ happened and what _was_ happening with his emotions.

He sighed, yet again, and walked over to where his clothes were. In his current outfit, even if it looked _exactly_ the same as the others, he felt unkempt and dirty. It may have been due to what had happened with Grimmjow but he tried to push those thoughts as far back into his mind as he possibly could. Extracting his jacket off of himself, he pulled on another one; neat, straight, and clean. Doing the same with his pants, he realized that he felt better, if only slightly. There were still terrible thoughts running through his mind; unwanted mental images taking turns to taunt him and words he could just _imagine_ being spoken to him by the blue-haired Sexta.

He tried not to shudder, or allow his eye to twitch, for that matter. It was hard to do, with Gimmjow's words suddenly making their way into his mind.

_With how many times you screamed my name, I was worried you might have a…sore throat, _came the Sexta's taunting words in the exact voice from when they awoke. It worried Ulquiorra and he found himself looking around the room, making sure that the words he had recalled were truly just his thoughts and not that of the _actual _Gimmjow. Ulquiorra shook the thoughts away. He couldn't have screamed…_so many _times, right? If this mess was true and really happening, then he really hoped he hadn't. It was humiliating.

Sighing again, he placed his unkempt clothes on a chair. He would take care of them later. First, however, he decided he would go pay Aizen a visit, to see if he needed him for anything. Trying to ignore all that had happened to him _already, _including the now-fading headache, he walked towards his door and exited again, closing his door behind him. Pale hands making their way into his pockets, he began walking, seemingly calm.

Then paranoia came back.

The young man tried to ignore it, telling himself that, number one, no one was around and, number two, Grimmjow wasn't around. He should be calm and collected, not a nervous wreck. It wasn't like himself to be nervous. _Very much_ not like him. Taking a deep breath, his nerves left him alone. For now, anyway.

He reached Aizen's room and stood in front of the door. Bringing a pale hand up, he knocked twice and retreated his hand back to his pocket. He heard no response and then turned and continued down the hall he was currently in. He was slightly grateful that Aizen was still asleep; it would give himself time to figure out this mess. However, work would've done well to keep him mind _off_ of the horrible incident.

_Oh well, _he thought. _Better to get this figured out now than to have it haunt me later._ By his standards, figuring it out now sound much more attractive. The Cuatro continued walking until he reached the meeting hall and entered. He was slightly surprised to see many of the other Espada and much of te other Arrancar there but, of course, he didn't show it. Instead, he opted to walking to his indicated chair and taking a seat. When he did, however, it was then that he realized who it was he sat in front of.

Slowly, the Cuatro's bright, emerald eyes looked up and locked with Grimmjow's blue ones. A smirk pulled at the Sexta's lips; a playful, cat-like smirk that exposed his perfectly sharpened canines. Ulquiorra tried not to be too offended and pretended not to care, willing to let Grimmjow think that the Cuatro wouldn't dignify his behavior with a response. Grimmjow messed with him and that called for revenge. He was wiling to fuck with the Sexta's mind, allowing him to believe that he was as cool as collected as the night before the incident.

He took note now that he was receiving no odd stares from any of the others around him. It was as if they didn't know or didn't care. It briefly made Ulquiorra ponder over whether or not Grimmjow would _willingly _blab his little endeavor to all of Las Noches. It also made him realize that this was no prank set up by the rest of them. If it _was_ a prank, it was set up by the Sexta only, seeing as he was the only one who seemed to know about it. Though, Szayel kept glancing in their direction but he ignored the Octava for now; the pick-haired man was probably just bored.

Aizen entered the hall and sat at his spot at the head of the table. Ulquiorra briefly wondered where the man had been before shaking the thought off and preparing his seemingly infinite patience for the man's droning session. The Cuatro didn't mind listening to Aizen—the man _had_ created him, after all, so he owed him that much—but listening to the much of the same grew tiresome after a while. Silently sighing, yet again, he sat up straight and looked in the brunette-man's direction as he began.

And, so, it began. And it went on and on and on until Aizen could speak no more of what was on his mind. They concluded this _wonderful_ meeting with some of Aizen's trademark tea before the Espada stood, stretched, and began leaving. Ulquiorra was the only one, that he was aware of, that was heading towards Aizen. As the pale, young man passed by Szayel, he noticed that the Octava tossed him a curious glance before continuing on his way.

Ulquiorra tried to not let that tiny act bother him; he ascribed Szayel's glances to nothing major. Surely they had nothing to do with Grimmjow. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. The Cuatro made it to Aizen and bowed respectfully.

"Ulquiorra," was the brown-haired man's simple greeting. The high-ranking man stood straight again and looked to Aizen, emotionless.

"Is there anything you need, Aizen-sama?" the Espada questioned, voice stoic. Aizen offered up a small smile.

"No, Ulquiorra, but thank you. You may rest, for now," Aizen told him, seeming very generous. The green-eyed Cuatro nodded once.

"Thank you, Aizen-sama," he said to the other man before turning on a heel and walking towards the exit. As he walked away, Aizen held a teasing smile on his lips before continuing on his own way. Ulquiorra, however, didn't notice any of this and continued, soon reaching the exit. As he walked past the doors, in his peripheral, he saw a certain blue-haired Espada leaning against the wall. Ulquiorra tried to ignore him.

The pale Espada continued walking without even_ bothering_ to throw Grimmjow even _one_ glance. That didn't stop the Sexta from invading his mind, however. He wondered why the slightly older Espada would be outside of the meeting hall after everyone had gone to their respected room. Why did it seem as if Grimmjow was…_waiting_ for him? The younger Espada shook that thought away quickly, reminding himself _exactly_ who he was thinking of.

Letting out a breath, Ulquiorra was slightly relieved to have reached his room. Some proper rest sounded really good right about now. However, it seemed _someone_ had different plans for him. A pale hand was placed on his knob and he twisted, opening it slightly. The moment that was done, however, the _someone_ mentioned pushed him through the door and closed it, locking it as he pinned Ulquiorra's wrists above the pale Cuatro's head and prepared a bright, blue cero next to his face.

"Not a word," Grimmjow breathed. "Or I'll cero your head clean off." Ulquiorra's eyes looked into the blue ones before him but the Sexta refused to meet gazes. The Cuatro's eyes stayed emotionless, hiding the thoughts of curiosity behind them. But, alas, he did nothing but looked away from the cero currently aimed at his head. This was a horrible situation.

Ulquiorra may have been stronger than Grimmjow, but the blue-haired man had him cornered. One wrong move and he'd have his head blown clear off. He hadn't forgotten that faithful day when Grimmjow regained his ranking. He closed his emerald eyes and looked away, quickly feeling as the other man's lips tracing along his neck and down to his collarbone.

B—L—E—A—C—H

**A/N: **Sorry of anyone's OOC; it was the only way the story would work :P and, yeah, it's a songfic; the lyrics will come a little later :) possibly in the next chapter .:shrugs:. And, yeah, this is gonna be a little longer :P hope anyone who reads likes it, though! Please R&R, constructive criticism, no flames ;) thanks!


	2. Mind Games

_**Comatose**_

**Disclaimer:** I Don't Own _BLEACH _or the Song _Comatose_ in Any Way, Shape or Form. _BLEACH_ is Rightfully Copyrighted to Tite Kubo and the Song, _Comatose, _is rightfully Copyrighted to Skillet.

**Rating: **Mature Due to Sexual Themes, Alcohol Usage, Crude Language, Angst and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy.

**A/N: **Thank you all for the alerts! ;D

B—L—E—A—C—H

Grimmjow continued to run his lips along Ulquiorra's neck. The pale Espada's collarbone tingled with the Sexta's lips trailing along him, teasing his skin, gently biting or kissing the places around his hollow hole. The Cuatro let out a shaky, silent breath, trying hard to not allow a gasp escape from his lips. His eyes were clenched as he faced away from the still-bright cero to the left of his pale face. God, he hated to admit it, but he was enjoying this much more than he should be.

The blue-haired Espada started to trail his lips upwards now. They soon reached Ulquiorra's jaw, ghosting over the skin carefully.

"Maybe if you didn't hate me," Grimmjow breathed, his hot breath tickling Ulquiorra. "Things could be different." The younger Espada said nothing at this but allowed his mind to wander as Grimmjow continued to tease his skin. Ulquiorra _did _wonder what it would be like if he didn't hate the blue-haired Arrancar. Would it be anything like this? Except, perhaps, it would be more willing and less surprising to the younger.

The Sexta's movements were becoming slower and more deliberate. His left leg slowly wrapped itself around Ulquiorra's, bringing their bodies even closer together. The ebony-haired Cuatro could feel his face heat up slightly and he turned his head in Grimmjow's direction, to make his neck feel better from being turned for so long. However, when his face turned, his lips ended up right on Grimmjow's. It became silent.

The cat-like Arrancar hovered his lips over Ulquiorra's pale and black ones, feeling as light as a feather. Their eyes met finally. The Cuatro could see something in Grimmjow's aqua eyes that he couldn't quite place, an emotion he couldn't read. They looked soft and nervous but there was something else…something he didn't recognize. The moment was short-lived so, unfortunately, Ulquiorra didn't have enough time to try and decipher the other man's blue orbs. Their once-soft appearance quickly dissipated and, before Ulquiorra knew what had happened, the Sexta had pulled away from him.

His body heat left the Cuatro's pale body immediately. Grimmjow moved him out of the way before opening the younger Arrancar's room and leaving, door closing again behind him. Ulquiorra stayed on his place against a wall that was close to the door. His emerald eyes stayed glued to the closed entrance, wondering if what had just happened _really_ just happened. He was shocked; Grimmjow _used_ him. Again!

How could he allow Grimmjow to do this? _Twice_ in the same day, might he add. Then again, he_ did_ have a bright, Sexta-Espada blue cero pointed at his head. At least this time he _knew_ what had happened. But still, it was nerve-wrecking. He got that feeling again. Used and thrown away…like _trash._ Questions now formed in his head.

Grimmjow didn't seem to have any attachments when he violated Ulquiorra's persona. But, now, it was the _Cuatro_ that was beginning to get attached. He hated it. He _wanted_ Grimmjow. But he also wanted the Sexta to feel the same for him, too.

However, he knew that, as far as he was concerned, that _wasn't_ what was going on. Grimmjow just wanted to use him. Use him and reject him soon afterwards, telling him he was trash without even _saying_ it to his face. His face hung low.

After a few minutes of silence, he stood and walked to his bed, stripping away his jacket. Once done with that, throwing the article of clothing on a nearby chair, he kicked off his shoes and lay on his bed, removing his hollow mask and placing it on the floor dismissively. His legs curled into his chest as he pulled the covers over himself, trying to get some of that 'proper' rest he mentioned earlier.

B—L—E—A—C—H

_I hate feeling like this  
I'm so tired of trying to fight this  
I'm asleep and all I dream of  
Is waking to you._

Ulquiorra tossed and turned in his sleep, his brain playing terrible mind-games on him. He kept dreaming to this 'morning.' When he woke up and found Grimmjow at his side. But the images in his mind were different; they were peaceful, the way Ulquiorra could imagine waking up to Grimmjow, if the Sexta actually _cared _for him. He was trying to fight these new feelings towards the Espada but it was useless. If he was correct in guessing…he'd say he was_ in love_ with the Sexta.

He hated this. He hated this, he hated himself, and he could still hate _Grimmjow_ for starting this! And, even _if_ he hated Grimmjow right now…he also wanted the other man here. Now he was _really _confused. He damned his emotions.

The Cuatro lay on his back and stared at the ceiling above. His arms were spread out to his sides as his bare chest rose and fell with each breath. For a good while, he just lay there, listening to his own even breathing. Bright, emerald eyes closing, he let his mind wander, trying to calm his almost-wracked nerves. Of course, his thoughts drifted to Grimmjow, yet again.

An image came to mind; a soft-spoken Grimmjow, softer and gentler in his actions. His smiles were less psychotic and more loving. He snapped his eyes opened and shoved those images out of his mind.

"Damn," he muttered and turned his head towards his door, the sight of Grimmjow leaving suddenly coming to mind. He sighed and tried to decide his next move. He would be there for a while.

B—L—E—A—C—H

**A/N: **Kind of short but it's alright :) the fluff makes up for that XD hope you guys like! Please R&R, constructive criticism, no flames ;) thanks!


	3. Deceiving Appearances

_**Comatose**_

**Disclaimer:** I Don't Own _BLEACH _or the Song _Comatose_ in Any Way, Shape or Form. _BLEACH_ is Rightfully Copyrighted to Tite Kubo and the Song, _Comatose, _is rightfully Copyrighted to Skillet.

**Rating: **Mature Due to Sexual Themes, Alcohol Usage, Crude Language, Angst and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy.

**A/N: **Thanks for the alerts, faves, and reviews ;) please enjoy!

**WARNING: **Some minor spoilers to the Arrancar arc.

B—L—E—A—C—H

Laying there in his bed, trying to figure out his next action, for God only knows how long, Ulquiorra's mind drifted back to when Grimmjow _attacked_ him and violated his person. He realized that their eyes never met during that short time, not purposely anyway. The one time that the Cuatro tried to make eye contact, the blue-haired Espada immediately busied himself by kissing him and looking away. A minor act but it was something. Not to mention, when they _did_ lock eyes, the Sexta's body tensed and froze in place.

That moment, when Grommjow's lips were hovering over his own, there was something about the other that Ulquiorra couldn't place. His muscles must have tensed for a reason, correct? He wouldn't stop just because their lips were so close, would he? If Grimmjow truly was solely after usage and pleasure only, then the emerald-eyed Arrancar could imagine the answer to that question was 'no.' If only Ulquiorra had more time to read the blue orbs then, maybe, he could understand what drove the elder away so quickly when he had been so close.

His eyes closed and he breathed, concentrating, thinking back in his memories to those intoxicating aqua eyes. The moment, heated, quick, and so small, was difficult to keep stuck as a mental image for very long before it dissipated. Finally, he managed to extract it long enough for him to study the mesmerizing, bright eyes and attempt to decipher their secrets. He looked at every possible corner of that mental image, trying to pick up subtle clues. In the next few seconds, however…it was gone.

Had Ulquiorra seen…_regret_ in the Sexta's eyes? He could've slapped himself silly for thinking such a ludicrous idea. Grimmjow cared for no one and regretted nothing, except for maybe an independent attack on the human world, losing his entire Fraccion, and getting demoted later, but that didn't count. The pale younger should drill that fact into his head sometime. Maybe then it would be easier to care _less_ about the other.

However, he was far from the truth in thinking that. Even if Grimmjow didn't care for the younger, which Ulquiorra was positive of, the Cuatro would still just try to grab his attention, try to prove himself to him. The dark-haired younger was getting more confused with these emotions; they were driving him crazy. But, still, seeing Grimmjow's blue eyes...so soft and nervous, gave him some hope that, maybe, the Sexta cared some. But he didn't count on that being fact.

Maybe the elder was just screwing around with his head; revenge for what Ulquiorra had done in the meeting hall when he decided to ignore the Sexta's behavior. He suddenly cursed himself for that one. Sort of. He shook the thoughts away for a while, finally deciding what to do. A nice, moonlit stroll around Las Noches should calm him.

Sighing and then standing, he grabbed the jacket he had dismissed earlier and pulled it on. His hollow mask was then placed on his head for the second time today. The younger then proceeded on walking out of his room, closing his door behind him as his pale hands went to his pockets and he walked down the off-white hall. His green eyes stayed on an invisible point in front of him as he walked, with certain elegance to his step. Even when his nerves were so shaky, Ulquiorra could still appear as if there was nothing wrong.

Appearances are deceiving, however. Even if Ulquiorra _looked_ calm and collected, his paranoia had already come into his system, steadily wracking his nerves further and further, trying to make him breakdown and lose total control. That whole sentence sounded horrible; just horrible. He took in a deep breath through his nose and set it free through his mouth.

He then passed by Grimmjow's bedroom door.

It took all the willpower in his system to ignore the entrance, not even bothering to glance at it. If he saw the elder _right now,_ he'd surely crack. No one, _especially_ the Sexta, needed to see that. He just kept walking, quickly passing it, and soon making it to the end of the hall. He felt a little more nervous passing by the door but, luckily for him, it passed over and he returned to simple paranoia.

Eventually, the pale young man soon made it outside. The cool breezes of the night played with the ebony strands of his hair and ghosted over his skin, giving him a few goose bumps where his skin was exposed. The darkness consumed him, allowing him to be hidden is the natural shadows of night. But, there to guide him, the moon shone brightly, letting him know the darkness wouldn't take him completely. He took a deep inhale of the fresh, cold night air and set it free seconds after.

The entire atmosphere soothed him. His paranoia left and he was himself again. Calm, collected, indifferent; this was Ulquiorra. For the time being, his mind was a total blank, thinking about nothing but how incredibly relaxed he felt right here, right now. His head leaned back and his hands vacated his pockets, lying limply at his sides as his emerald eyes closed and he breathed, taking in the smell of the perfect region surrounding him.

It made _him_ feel perfect. No jumbled emotions, no feeling like the world was watching him; just perfect. Nothing mattered anymore and he didn't care about anyone. It was invigorating. His eyes suddenly opened halfway, drunken with this feeling he had been deprived off all day. It was like a drug that he couldn't get enough of.

His eyes were dazed, lost in a sea of familiar feelings. Blinking once, his eyes returned to normal and he himself returned to reality, his head facing forward again, into the vast area of gray sand before him, dead plants dotting the landscape somewhat. Everything was dead in Hueco Mundo, especially the Arancar. If this is so, how is it that they're able to feel human, _living_ emotions? Dead things don't _feel;_ were Arrancar and Shinigami exceptions to that rule? At the moment, he would believe that to be true.

That didn't make his situation any easier, however. He didn't _want_ to _feel_ emotions. The younger blamed a certain blue-haired, blue-eyed Espada who would remain nameless for the time being. If he _wanted_ to feel, he would've hoped that the emotions were better and easier to read, instead of being confused all the time. He briefly wondered how humans put up with this annoyance without killing themselves first. He then realized that some did.

However, Ulquiorra didn't have that option. Or rather, he did, but he was far-too dedicated to Aizen's needs. A sigh escaped his lips. Certain Espada, who would remain nameless, still, didn't seem to care all that much about Aizen; how come the Cuatro did? He tried to not glare at the nothingness before him. It had done nothing to him but make him feel calm again. If he had to be annoyed at anyone, it would be himself for falling for someone as psychotically sadistic and detached as _Grimmjow._

Now he shrugged and put his hands back to his pockets. He figured he had been outside, thinking, long enough. The emerald-eyed younger still had no solutions, and no _idea_ how Grimmjow had his fun that night prior, but simply being outside had relaxed him, even if it was for a short time. Alas, it was getting cold and Ulquiorra wouldn't mind some warmth. So, that being the current case, he walked in the direction he'd come from.

Surprisingly, the dark-haired Cuatro felt fairly confident as he walked into Las Noches. His previous level of suspicion had lowered significantly. The younger was breathing easily again, somewhat anyway. It was still there just less obvious in his mind. It was refreshing; almost like what he had experienced outside.

Taking a deep breath, his steps practically glided over the floor. As he was walking back towards his room, he noticed the Octava Espada, Szayel Aporro Granz, walking towards him. He didn't pay too much attention, even though the other man waved a little when they passed each other. But Szayel didn't smile, as he usually did. His face looked serious and…sympathetic. Ulquiorra's body began to slow down then.

Szayel, ever since the Cuatro had seen him in the meeting hall, had been acting rather odd towards him. He was accustomed to the man's subtle acts of kindness towards him, such as a small wave when they passed or saw each other, or a smile, or even both. Szayel didn't really bother him too much and Ulquiorra had even spoken with the other a few times. Szayel was usually a little more cheerful when he saw the younger Arrancar. Ulquiorra briefly wondered why he had been so serious as of late.

_Could_ Szayel actually be connected with Grimmjow's recent act in some way?

He would've asked the Octave himself but, when he turned around, the pink-haired scientist had disappeared. Facing his original direction, he soon came across Grimmjow's door. His green eyes stared at the door and, soon, he realized that he was standing right in front of it, staring curiously.

_Tell me that you will listen  
Your touch is what I'm missing  
And the more I hide I realize  
I'm slowly losing you.  
_

Was Ulquiorra stupid enough to _actually_ confront the man who had pretty much raped him in the past twenty-four hours and ask who had helped him? The answer to _that_ question was currently stamped as a big 'undecided.' He figured that if _he_ surprised the Sexta and cornered _him_, then the younger would have the upper hand and could get the information he needed. The problem was that, after Grimmjow's last act of 'affection,' he was, even if he didn't want to admit it, a little intimidated. The confused feelings came around again.

He _wanted_ to see Grimmjow but, on the other hand, he also wanted to go to his room and curl up under his covers where he felt safe.

_Damn it, _he thought, annoyed at himself for lusting for the elder's touch, wanting the elder's lips ghosting over his skin. He shook his head slightly, making those thoughts go away. He turned away from the door, deciding he would face his fear some other time. Right now, he'd much rather be in his familiar room than risk getting more 'affection.'

His hands stayed in his pockets as he slowly stepped to his room. His thoughts were drifting again. So lost in said thoughts, he didn't hear a door open behind him, said door belonging to Grimmjow. The Cuatro didn't notice that the blue-haired Espada had looked both ways in the hall, deciding his destination. He didn't notice that the Sexta had seen him. He didn't notice that the older Arrancar promptly smiled sadistically. Most importantly…

He didn't notice when Grimmjow began following him.

B—L—E—A—C—H

**A/N: **I had some problems writing this chapter (damn writers block =.=) but I finished it and I like how it came out :) Hope those reading feel the same ;D Please R&R, constructive criticism, no flames :) thanks!


	4. Taunting Images

_**Comatose**_

**Disclaimer:** I Don't Own _BLEACH _or the Song _Comatose_ in Any Way, Shape or Form. _BLEACH_ is Rightfully Copyrighted to Tite Kubo and the Song, _Comatose, _is rightfully Copyrighted to Skillet.

**Rating: **Mature Due to Sexual Themes, Alcohol Usage, Crude Language, Angst and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy.

**A/N: **New chapter! .:happy dances:.

B—L—E—A—C—H

Ulquiorra continued to walk edgily, his thoughts still on Grimmjow. The small walk from the Sexta's door to his own was easy enough and he closed in on his intended destination. A pale hand removed itself from the confines of his right pocket, soon placing itself upon the knob of his door. The moment his hand made contact with the cold metal, however, he felt something was amiss. He froze in his place, trying to think of what it could be.

Then it hit him. Literally.

He didn't know what had happened the next second but, in the seconds following, the Cuatro found himself pinned to his own door. His left arm was violently ripped out of his pocket and held behind his back while his other hand was being forced against his door, in the place right next to his door knob. His face was now forced against the white door as well, his emerald eyes squinting from slight pain as the rest of his pale body was practically being shoved against said door.

On top of that, his backside could feel another body pushing against his own. A familiar touch made its way around his leg, wrapping itself snugly as a hot breath sent cold shivers down his spine. His eyes widened somewhat.

"Grimmjow," his voice breathed, struggling to gain control again. He tired to pull either one of his restrained arms free but to no avail. This whole scenario seemed awfully familiar, suddenly, but he couldn't quite place it. Was it traces of a memory? He wasn't sure right now. For the time being, he simply tried to fight back and pull himself free.

"What's wrong Ulquiorra?" the blue-haired Espada's voice broke the younger out of his concentration as he now tried to see Grimmjow through his peripheral. "Not feeling submissive today?" The Cuatro tried to not widen his eyes at that comment. He knew _very well_ what the older was insinuating with his choice of words. An annoyed shrug tried to worm its way out of his throat but he managed to choke it back and simply glare.

The Sexta grinned sadistically as he leaned in and made his lips trail down along the younger's exposed neck. The moment said lips made contact, however, Ulquiorra's green eyes widened a little for two reasons. The first being the feeling of multiple shivers running down his spine. The second was that an image suddenly found its way to his mind, replaying like a movie in his head…like a memory, almost.

_The two beings were in nothing but their long, white pants and shoes, bare chests exposed but far from cold. Pale and tanner skin touched, mingled, and mixed sweat from the heated scenario. Grimmjow pulled the younger around his waist with one arm, bringing their bodies closer and looking directly into the emerald eyes before him. He smiled teasingly, exposing his perfectly sharpened canines while his eyes sparkled with sadistic pleasure. Their bare chests rubbed against each other, exchanging body heat while a pale hand carefully reached up and glided across the blue-haired man's cheekbone. This only caused his grin to widen. _

_The younger didn't know what had happened in the next second. However, in the seconds following, he found himself pinned to the wall, his pale back facing the other Espada. His bright green eyes were hazed over in drunken confusion as he looked over his shoulder to the culprit of this. The Sexta, of which, seemed very amused but somehow calm. His muscular hand reached up to the younger's left bicep, where the tattooed 4 could be found. _

"_You may be Aizen's Cuatro Espada," his rugged voice said in a low, rumbling voice in his exposed ear, since the younger's hollow mask had been discarded. "But tonight," he continued. _

"_You're mine."_

It ended there. Quick and subtle but heated and slightly insightful; Ulquiorra figured that his current scenario must've triggered that small memory from the night prior because of how similar the two were. His eyes narrowed somewhat as he found his voice.

"I…won't let you do this to me again," he muttered, voice hinting with the slightest bit of anger.

"Really?" Grimmjow mocked, challengingly. "I'm waiting." Ulquiorra held back the growl that wanted to escape and promptly struggled for freedom of his right arm. If he could get it free, he could easily send an elbow to the Sexta's stomach, knock the air right out of him and suddenly have more control over the situation. He'd most likely have a cero pointed at his head so the elder wouldn't try anything.

However, the more he struggled, the tighter Grimmjow's grip would get, pinning him further against the unwilling door and most likely bruising his wrist even more so, he was sure. He now fought for his other arm, the one held tightly behind his back, but he only came up with the same results, except his wrist was forced further into his back. He felt like his arm would be torn out of its socket any second now so he gave up on struggling, choking back a defeated sigh. He wouldn't show signs of defeat. That would certainly give the Sexta the upper hand.

"Let me go, Sexta," he demanded, managing to maintain a stoic and monotonous voice. However, Grimmjow didn't seem to care. He laughed darkly and Ulquiorra could feel the smug smirk in his voice as he spoke.

"Now why would I do that?" he asked with his voice teasing and playful. "I rather like how this is going," he explained. Next, Grimmjow pulled another fast one. His hand, the one pinning Ulquiorra's right wrist, quickly left said wrist for two seconds, surprising the younger. However, the ebony-haired Cuatro didn't have enough time to fight back because, in the next few moments, his bedroom door had opened and he tripped right in, especially since he was pinned up so tightly against the door.

The pale Espada landed on the ground, legs folded beneath him and arms on the edge of his bed. Using his bed as a support, his body trembled as he tried to stand to his feet. Before crossing that bridge, however, he looked over his shoulder, to see what Grimmjow was up to now.

Aqua met with Emerald.

In the next half-second, Ulquiorra saw the elder's eyes change from sadistic-psycho to that thing he had seen earlier that he couldn't place. There was a little shock this time, however. They were wide and nervous and, like the previous time, the Sexta froze in his place. The younger's breathing was a little heavy and his shoulders slightly rose and fell with each breath. However, the two didn't break contact; the only sound that could be heard was the Cuatro's uneven breaths.

Grimmjow's face faded into seriousness and he looked dismissive.

"Che'," was his last response before grabbing the knob and closing the younger's door, leaving. He left young Ulquiorra in the darkness, trying to catch his breath. His emerald eyes closed and he steadied his breathing again before reopening them. He glared at his door, waiting, thinking that there was more. After a few quick-passing minutes, he figured Grimmjow was done with his deed. He finally let out that sigh but it sounded more relived rather than defeated.

His body indicated his position and his legs told him they would try and cooperate. Carefully, still using the bed as support, he fought to get to his feet, luckily succeeding in doing so after a few stumbles. Another sigh escaped as Ulquiorra fell back onto his bed. His eyes stared up at the ceiling above him. Quickly discarding his hollow mask onto the ground, his head found its way to the pillow. In minutes, his mind finally allowed him the rest it didn't want to give him earlier.

B—L—E—A—C—H

The young, ebony-haired Ulquiorra awoke several hours later from a dreamless sleep. He was grateful for that, even if he still felt somewhat tired. He stayed lying down, his head on his pillow, as he adjusted his still-fully-clothed body under the covers. His pale eyelids closed unconsciously, not searching for sleep but just rest. His somewhat-groggy voice groaned as he relaxed, trying to keep his mind blank.

However, that mission was failed in seconds. Grimmjow quickly invaded his mind yet again and Ulquiorra was now seeing images of the dream he didn't remember, but now saw clearly as the pictures glided across his mind. He tried to keep his eyes closed, attempting to make the images go away but this only resulted in more and more of them pouring into his cranium. His head began pounding with a headache and his eyes opened halfway. The headache reduced and the taunting pictures were gone but still freshly burned into his memory.

He had slept and dreamed but he hadn't remembered that dream. Now, as he awoke, he was reminded, against his will. They flowed rapidly across his mind, giving him a quick headache and telling him exactly what his subconscious was thinking. He wanted more and, at the same time, he didn't want to imagine his persona being violated yet _again._ He turned over on his back, a pale hand reaching to run through the ebony strands of hair atop of his head. His eyes closed, dazed by these emotions. They soon reopened, only halfway, as he lay there and stared at the ceiling once again.

_Comatose  
I'll never wake up without an overdose of you. _

B—L—E—A—C—H

**A/N: **Good chappie :3 please R&R, constructive criticism, no flames :) thanks!


	5. New Answers

_**Comatose**_

**Disclaimer:** I Don't Own _BLEACH _or the Song _Comatose_ in Any Way, Shape or Form. _BLEACH_ is Rightfully Copyrighted to Tite Kubo and the Song, _Comatose, _is rightfully Copyrighted to Skillet.

**Rating: **Mature Due to Sexual Themes, Alcohol Usage, Crude Language, Angst and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy.

**A/N: **Yay for long weekends! :D and no homework! .:Happy dances:.

B—L—E—A—C—H

Ulquiorra was a thinker. He was silent most of the time, not bothering to waste his breath speaking unless he needed to. In his silence, he thought to himself. His thoughts, of which, usually consisted of Aizen; working for Aizen, pleasing Aizen, and fulfilling Aizen's needs. It was very few times that he really thought about himself or anybody else. The few times he did, the thoughts consisted of negative thoughts, simply deeming the person as garbage or strategizing their death, especially if it was beneficial to Aizen.

_Now,_ however, his thoughts, much thanks to confused emotions, were also jumbled and lost. In the past several hours, Aizen had _barely_ passed across his mind. Instead, Grimmjow was there to take his place, in much different ways, though. After his past few experiences already, Ulquiorra's mind was apparently trying to kill him with his own confused ideas.

The Cuatro hated Grimmjow. Or rather, he cared for him less than a used tissue that had been stepped on, thrown away, and later incinerated. The Sexta had rarely crossed his mind and he called him trash multiple times in any one day. He found it amazing how being used at least three times could suddenly change his mind about the blue-haired man._ Now,_ a perfectly amazing, seemingly permanent, image of Grimmjow was stuck in his mind, showing itself every time he closed his eyes for a little too long. As for when his emerald eyes were _open,_ his multitude of thoughts made up for that.

Feelings; they were so…complicated, he realized. Currently, he felt pretty useless, not knowing where the Sexta was or what he was up to. He wanted him by his side, maybe telling him one or two things that no one else would hear escape from the other's lips. Dreams haunted Ulquiorra and memories made him think his current reality _wasn't_ real. Just that night, those many hours prior, when he awoke, not knowing where he was or why he was there, made waking up alone and _knowing_ seem so…fake.

Waking up like this was routine to him. Though, lately, he did find himself in a strange sleeping schedule, since sleep seemed to elude him so much as of late. However, awaking alone now was _annoying._ There's no warmth, no feeling of another being at the side as company, and no one there to say something. The only company he has here are the silent pieces of furniture.

There was nothing to question because everything was where it was supposed to be. Clothes were folded neatly and put away, a shirt and pants that still needed some attention lay on a chair, and the papers upon his desk were perfectly stacked and blended all too well with the white piece of furniture, looking like the surface itself rather than a small bit of papers. Plain and ordinary with no work needed to be done. It reflected his persona. It was simple, clean, and elegant, much like him.

_I don't want to live  
I don't want to breathe  
'les I feel you next to me  
you take the pain I feel  
waking up to you never felt so real  
I don't want to sleep  
I don't want to dream  
'cause my dreams don't comfort me  
The way you make me feel  
Waking up to you never felt so real. _

The Sexta wasn't a _complete_ mess but he was far from Ulquiorra's style. Shirts found their way onto _many_ pieces of furniture and the papers on _his_ desk were strewn in small, messy piles. He was absolutely positive they were so far out of order that it would take _weeks_ to put them the way they were supposed to be. Ulquiorra was surprised the elder even_ managed_ to get _any_ of his necessary paperwork done on time. When not sent on an assignment, or when the Sexta wasn't planning an _independent_ attack, he was rather lazy around Las Noches, too. His usual schedule, that the younger was aware of, was sleep, wake up, find a new location, sleep some more, eat, and then sleep again. This repeated itself throughout the day and, most of the time, not in that necessary order. That was just what Ulquiorra had observed of him.

Somehow, Grimmjow managed to squeeze in training into his 'busy' schedule as well.

_How _else _would he keep his body so finely-tuned?_ He asked himself sarcastically. The younger then sighed to himself, remembering that mental image of Grimmjow, imagining his perfectly sculpted chest against his pale corpse from the one memory he had of that faithful night. He wondered if he was crazy for wanting that again; to properly feel the others skin and memorize every contour of his body. If he was, then fine; it was better than sleeping and having dreams that he didn't want.

His black-haired head found his soft pillow again as he shrugged and wrapped his pale arms around the piece of cloth. More thoughts ran across his mind. He wanted information. The Cuatro wanted the truth; what happened those few nights before? How did Grimmjow pull it off? Would he continually act so indifferent or was there something behind this whole act? _That _question suddenly made Ulquiorra wonder why the elder would flee any time he looked directly into the younger's emerald orbs; why he froze in place and gave him that odd look.

Perhaps there really were undefined emotions in Grimmjow that the Sexta was trying to conceal, unwilling to let Ulquiorra know the truth. That being the case, the younger felt the same. He didn't want to expose these new feelings, thinking the elder would use them to his desire. As much as he hated to contradict himself, however, Ulquiorra also _needed_ the elder to know; to let him understand if these violations of his personal space really were usage for pleasure or acts of affection.

The younger Cuatro sat up, eyes exposing some kind of determination.

_I'm going to figure this out,_ he told himself.

_Starting with Szayel. _

B—L—E—A—C—H

Ulquiorra made it, unscathed and untouched, to Szayel's laboratory. Or rather, the oversized bedroom he was granted that he had _transformed_ into a laboratory. The younger shrugged dismissively; details, details. A pale hand reached up and knocked on the door carefully, much in the same manner he knocked on Aizen's door. For a while, he was answered with silence until he heard some slight shuffling on the other side and the off-white door opened, a pink-haired Octava meeting his eyes.

Szayel's yellow orbs widened slightly before falling half-lidded, his expression almost nervous and soft, as it had been the last time Ulquiorra had seen him.

"Ulquiorra," the other man breathed. "Hello there."

"Evening, Szayel," the Cuatro responded monotonously. "May I speak with you?" The yellow orbs before him widened again but for only a few moments before Szayel nodded once, moving aside and allowing the younger to enter. The scientist closed the door and walked up next to Ulquiorra, whose eyes were moving, slowly, across the room's appearance. It was, indeed, large, with several tables lined up next to each other and along the wall.

Each of the tables was white, surprise, surprise, and held, atop of them, many different materials, tools, and chemicals that Ulquiorra wouldn't even _try_ to name. To the other side was a wall with a door-less entrance shaped like a full circle. Ulquiorra assumed that entrance led to the other man's bedroom, as he could somewhat make out a bed, even though the lights in that area were all out. It was simple but it matched Szayel pretty well, he guessed.

"What do you need to speak to me with, Ulquiorra?" Szayel questioned softly, voice somewhat shaky. The younger's eyes fell. What could he say? That he needed to know if Grimmjow had asked him for help as of late? As confusing as it sounded, it was the only way he could directly get an answer.

"Grimmjow," he voice broke out finally as he looked back up into Szayel's eyes. The yellow eyes widened, yet again, before the pink-haired scientist sighed in frustration.

"Um," he mumbled. "What…do you mean, exactly?"

"Has he asked you for anything lately?" Ulquiorra asked directly, noticing the anxiousness in the other's voice. Szayel looked as if he had swallowed something before he sighed again, regretfully this time.

"I…" he began slowly, his head hanging before his eyes closed and he faced away from the younger. "I'm afraid I can't answer that question," he answered finally, voice slightly exposing the regret the younger had heard in his sigh. The Cuatro hid his slight surprise well.

"Why?" he asked, masking his curiosity.

"I'm sorry," Szayel tried to say firmly, failing somewhat. "I just can't."

"Grimmjow told you to not tell me, didn't he?" Ulquiorra demanded with his voice both stoic and severe at once. Szayel didn't respond, letting the younger know that what he said was true. The scientist _was_ mixed up in this somehow and it was most likely that he had assisted Grimmjow in some way. Ulquiorra knew the elder wasn't smart enough to pull this off on his own.

"You're afraid of him because he's of higher ranking, aren't you?" the emerald-eyed Cuatro asked. Szayel remained silent. "Well, _I'm_ superior to both of you," he reminded the Octava. "Now tell me; what has Grimmjow asked of you?" It was silent for several moments as Szayel hung his head and Ulquiorra stared at the back of his head with piecing green eyes that contradicted against his pale skin. After a while, Szayel looked to the younger over his shoulder, yellow and green meeting instantly.

"How badly do you want to know?"

_I hate living without you  
Dead wrong to ever doubt you  
But my demons lay in waiting  
Tempting me away. _

This question threw Ulquiorra off a little. His head now hung, too, and he thought about it. How badly_ did_ he want to know? As he thought, he realized that he didn't _want_ to know what had happened; he _needed_ to know. It truly was becoming a nuisance that he didn't know, not even a _fraction_, of what had happened that faithful day. Well…that was _almost_ true, since he was recently blessed with a small portion of his memory, but he wanted to know what was in his system that would _allow_ that, and all that's occurring, to happen.

"I don't." he replied finally as he looked up to Szayel's, once again, surprised expression.

"I _need_ to know."

Szayel seemed to understand his words and he sighed, fully defeated and willing to answer Ulquiorra's questions directly now. The sympathy was simply too much for him. The pink-haired man walked up to one of his tables and looked around before finding what he was looking for. He pulled it in front of his face, inspected it further, and then walked back to the younger Cuatro.

"Grimmjow asked me if I had anything that could intoxicate someone and wipe their memory for several hours. I showed him this," Szayel explained as he showed the pale Ulquiorra a small, glass bottle containing a light pink, translucent liquid inside. The ebony-haired Cuatro took it in his hand and examined it, allowing Szayel to continue. "The chemical you're looking at is what I've dubbed as _The Memory-Killing Chemical._ The user simply has to drink it for it to activate. It has no physical attributes that make a normal drink suspicious, if it is used in another drink. This is what I suspect Grimmjow may have done to you."

The puzzle was starting to fit together now. The younger Cuatro remembered the moments before the incident; when he was in the meeting hall, drinking tea with the others. He remembered that _Grimmjow_ had volunteered to pass around the cups of tea and he had given the pale young man his cup. The blue-eyed elder must've slipped this chemical into his drink before giving it to him.

"What happened after I drank my tea that day?" Ulquiorra thought aloud. Szayel seemed to know what the younger meant and responded.

"The chemical is designed to make the drinker appear clumsy and somewhat tired. Their actions aren't justified by their own beliefs and they fall into whatever happens to them. After you drank a few sips of your tea, your eyes dazed over and your vision must've blurred because you put a hand to your head, accidentally knocking over your cup in the process. Afterwards, you stood, probably intending to go to your own room. However, you collapsed, the drug taking full-effect; it runs through the blood-stream quickly, you see. I was watching both you and Grimmjow; when I looked to his seat, he was gone, already by your side.

"Aizen and the others came to both of you then, asking if you were alright. Grimmjow held you up and grinned, volunteering to watch you until the next day to make sure you'd be alright. As for what he _really_ did with you, well, only _he_ knows, since you shouldn't remember _any_ of that," Szayel explained. "At least, not all of it." Ulquiorra shot him a curious look, asking what he meant by those words. The scientist seemed to understand his wordless question.

"The chemical's name is deceiving, you see," he began once again. "Memories can't truly be 'killed' or 'erased.' They can simply be put away in another place, hidden from the usual places your mind would look for them. The best way to describe it would be to say they're…misplaced rather than destroyed. They're _there_; you simply don't remember them because they've been stored in another part of you mind."

"I figured as much," Ulquiorra said finally as he looked down to the chemical in his hand. "One of them was triggered, not too long ago, and I have that one; it's the rest that I need, though."

"They'll come back, slowly," Szayel explained. "Some quicker than others; if a certain situation happens or an object comes into your sight, it may also trigger certain memories to return. Otherwise, they _do_ return on their own, just very slowly." Ulquiorra held back a sigh before returning the light pink chemical back to its owner.

"I'm grateful, Octava," he said silently. "Truly, I am." Szayel nodded once.

"Walk around Las Noches a little, Ulquiorra; maybe surrounding yourself with certain objects in certain places will help your memories return to you," the pink-haired man suggested.

"I'll do that," the younger agreed as he turned around and headed towards the door, Szayel watching his with sympathetic and regretful eyes.

"By the way," the scientist said, making the Cuatro stop and look at him over his shoulder. "I apologize for what's happened to you; I never should've allowed Grimmjow access to this chemical. I guess…I just thought he wouldn't go so far, I suppose." Ulquiorra didn't respond but Szayel somehow knew that it was alright, and the Cuatro wouldn't completely hate him for this. The younger simply figured that the Sexta must've threatened the Octava, and made him swear not to tell. With Grimmjow's higher rank over Szayel's, this was far from unbelievable.

The younger continued, eventually leaving the room completely and heading towards the meeting hall. Maybe walking around there could help trigger some memories, as Szayel has suggested. After regaining some of the memories from the time he was in the meeting hall to the time Grimmjow led him away, he would face that which he'd been dreading to willingly face…

Grimmjow.

B—L—E—A—C—H

**A/N:** Long chapter .-. oh well, makes up for my short chapters .:shrugs shoulders:. Please R&R, constructive criticism, no flames :) thanks! Oh and I'm gonna try and fit two or more verses in upcoming chapters ;) this will probably make longer chapters and more stuff happen so it's better for you guys, no? :D Later! Sorry for late update, too .:nervous smile:.


	6. New Memories

_**Comatose**_

**Disclaimer:** I Don't Own _BLEACH _or the Song _Comatose_ in Any Way, Shape or Form. _BLEACH_ is Rightfully Copyrighted to Tite Kubo and the Song, _Comatose, _is rightfully Copyrighted to Skillet.

**Rating: **Mature Due to Sexual Themes, Alcohol Usage, Crude Language, Angst and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy.

**A/N: **I'm in a good mood…don't know why O.o

B—L—E—A—C—H

Ulquiorra's careful and precise steps echoed silently through the area as he headed towards the meeting hall. His pale hands were held at his pockets, hidden from unworthy eyes and kept warm and cozy at his sides. Lips loose in a frown and eyes looking downcast, he noticed he was close to his destination. A few memories flashed with every few steps. He stored them in a safe place for the time being.

_His right, pale arm was wrapped around the Sexta's neck, hanging limply there as a muscular arm was wrapped around his waist, the other man's hand resting on his hip. _

That memory must've occurred shortly after Grimmjow led the younger away from the meeting hall. It may have been triggered because he was walking along the _exact_ hall where that recollection seemed to have happened.

_The Cuatro's steps were clumsy; his legs felt more like gelatin rather than muscle, tendons, and skin. Luckily for him, the blue-haired Espada at his side was there for him to lean against, a grin pulling at the elder's lips every time the ebony-haired Arrancar fell alongside him. _

The emerald-eyed Espada remained stoic, continuing down the hall and overlooking each new memory as they came into light; he wasn't about to reject this information now when he was craving it so much. The remembrances were becoming more frequent; almost every other step triggered a new one.

_About halfway down the hall, Ulquiorra fell against the Sexta, as he had done several times already. This time, however, the younger found himself leaning against the elder's chest, enjoying the foreign warmth that emanated from the other male. It was short-lived, however. Grimmjow carefully pulled him away and then promptly forced the younger to look up at him. The elder grinned playfully, most likely amused at the confused and dazed look in the Cuatro's deep, emerald eyes. _

_The pale Arrancar looked away, taunted by that grin. From there, he forced himself out of the other man's grasp and stumbled a little further down the hall. This only worked for two or three drunken steps before Ulquiorra was grabbed, once again, from behind, arms held firmly at his sides while a pair of muscular arms snaked across his chest. He suddenly felt a pair of lips against the back of his neck, eliciting a tiny gasp from the younger's lips. Grimmjow simply smirked at the sound that was like music to his ears; sweet, beautiful music. _

"_Ulquiorra," the elder breathed. "Calm yourself; I won't hurt you. I'm sure you'll like this, actually."_

The younger stopped suddenly, wanting this end but, at the same time, desperate for what had happened. He cleared his mind and prepared himself for what else would come into mind, negative or not. For a while, nothing came into his head so the Espada continued on his way towards the meeting hall.

The memories promptly returned.

_Grimmjow released his upper-ranking comrade and turned him around quickly, forcing him to face the elder. Ulquiorra looked more confused and his eyes seemed as if they had hazed over even more so. That movement was probably a little too quick but the Sexta didn't seem to care. A tanner hand came up to the pale face before him, causing his grin to widen when his hand made contact with the cold skin of the younger's face, finger's tracing his jaw line and carefully leading up to the Cuatro's cheek bone._

"_Your skin," Grimmjow mumbled carefully. "It's perfect." He dared to lean in closer and, soon, his lips were ghosting over the younger's pale skin. He started at the emerald-eyed Arrancar's forehead. The gentlest of kisses, feeling like a feather, was placed, first, into the dark strands of the Cuatro's hair._

_From there, the aqua-eyed Sexta continued downward, stopping at the side of his comrade's right eye. _

"_Your eyes," he whispered. "So…deep and green." His lips placed yet another kiss, the younger closing his eye for a moment before reopening it when the Sexta pulled his lips away. Then, he went lower, reaching just above his lower jaw. From there, the elder Espada looked to the cyan markings upon Ulquiorra's face. _

"_These markings," he went on. "They suit you." Finally, his lips were hovering above the Cuatro's light and black ones. The younger, of which, was still dazed and barely able to stand in his current position. Grimmjow slowly leaned in closer, intending to set a final kiss upon the other's lips. _

_He wasn't allowed this blessing, however. Ulquiorra's legs gave in on him, in one moment, and the upper-ranked Arrancar collapsed into Grimmjow once again, the elder's exposed arms immediately wrapped around the younger's slim body, preventing him from falling completely. _

"_You're precious."_

The memory ended there, just as Ulquiorra arrived to his intended destination. Although he didn't show it at the moment, the young Espada was slightly surprised at how careful and soft that recollection was. It was far from what the Cuatro had imagined, especially after the first memory he had received of that faithful night so many hours prior. He took a deep breath and set it free afterwards, ridding these thoughts from his mind for the moment to pay attention to his current task. His silent steps were heard as he walked into the meeting hall, yet again. He stopped after only three or four steps and looked around the large area. It looked the same as it always did, except it was empty.

Stepping deeper into the large room, he reached the white table in the center. He allowed his pale fingers to glide over the smooth, glass-like surface for several moments. His hand then pulled away and the young Espada then walked over to the chair he usually sat at when Aizen called a meeting. He stood next to his seat, hand unconsciously gliding across the surface, yet again. His deep, emerald eyes closed and he concentrated on that day; the day that everything had changed for him.

The first of that day came easy enough, since he had not been intoxicated up until the point that he'd drank his tea. He'd woken up, prepared himself, spoken with Aizen and walked with the brunette man to the meeting hall. He tried to remember Grimmjow's face up until he realized that the Sexta hadn't entered yet. Ulquiorra had departed from Aizen's side and gone to sit at his designated seat. That was when many of the others entered.

The young Arrancar couldn't place Szayel's face, since he hadn't suspected the pink-haired scientist up until recently. However, he remembered the blue-haired Espada clearly. He sat down in his chair in front of Ulquiorra, leaned forward on his elbows and locked eyes with the younger, perhaps for a little too long. To make up for that mishap, the other had simply smirked his infamous, cocky, smug grin, exposing his perfectly sharpened canines. The younger was unimpressed, eyes monotonous as he looked away towards Aizen.

If he remembered correctly, Grimmjow hadn't been pleased with the gesture. His grin faded into slight annoyance and he, too, looked to Aizen. This was when things began to go off the track and right into the sea of doom. Gin walked in from a back room or something, holding a tray in his hands with several cups of tea upon it. Gin playfully asked if anyone would care to assist him. Ulquiorra was positive that the silver-haired right-hand of Aizen didn't expect what would happen next, since Ulquiorra _himself_ didn't see it coming.

_Grimmjow Jeagerjaques,_ of all people, stood and agreed, his voice sounding bored when he said a simple 'sure' as confirmation. He strode over to the other and carefully took the tray into his hands. Gin thanked him but, of course, Grimmjow replied, in a negative tone.

"Che'." This was his usual sound when dismissing or being annoyed by something. "Just don't get used to it."

Now that Ulquiorra remembered this, was_ he_ the only one who found it odd that _Grimmjow_ would _willingly _assist to serve the tea? Because, as his eyes wandered that day, no one else seemed fazed. The younger hid his surprise well enough behind a mask of emotionless appearance. His hands lay on his lap and he awaited his cup, brushing the incident off as nothing. The sound of tiny _clinks_ and _clangs_ made their way into his ears as the cups were placed before each Espada, with great care.

Soon enough, the Sexta had made his way behind the younger. Ulquiorra could feel the grin on the man's face as he took a little extra time with his cup before placing it in front of the younger Cuatro, breathing a silent 'enjoy' before moving along to the next person. The younger inwardly rolled his eyes and waited for everyone to get their drink before he took his first sip of his own. Just as he picked up the small, warm cup in his pale hand, Grimmjow took his place across from him. The younger realized now that he probably should've paid more attention to the elder, for, at this point, the Sexta was watching him vigilantly.

The scent of the tea made its way into Ulquiorra's nostrils as he brought the cup up to his lips and drank the first sip. As Szayel had told him, the drink had no suspicious physical properties in it that would indicate tampering, the younger recalled. It smelled like it had always smelled and tasted exactly like it was supposed to. A few more sips and, soon, the cup wasn't even half empty when things went from normal to bad. This was where Ulquiorra had started to lose his memory because this was the last moment he recalled when he awoke in Grimmjow's room those hours ago.

The younger continued to concentrate, forcing his mind to recall these things. In moments, he claimed success and watched the memory play out in his mind.

_Ulquiorra took another sip of his warm drink. He placed his cup on the table's surface, intending to set free a breath. However, the moment the glass made contact with the sleek surface, the young Arrancar's eyesight blurred and his head hurt slightly. He thought it may have been a tiny, eyesight lapse but it didn't stop. His minor headache increased somewhat. _

_He reached a pale hand up to his forehead, closing his eyes and not caring that the sudden movement of his arm made his tea cup spill over. When he reopened his eyes, he found himself squinting; his eyes had become unusually sensitive to light all of a sudden. Thinking there might just be something wrong with him; he stood quickly and stumbled back. He headed towards the exit, intending to go to his room and hopefully fix this problem with rest. Conversely, after only three stumbled steps…_

_He collapsed. _

_Full-on fell. Ulquiorra Schiffer, Cuatro Espada of the Arrancar, __**collapsed.**__ In that moment, his green eyes momentarily rolled back into his head as he fell to his knees and the rest of his body promptly followed suit. He lay there on the ground, face against the white floor as his eyes dazed over and he heard the faded sounds of footsteps heading towards him hurriedly. The very first pair of feet belonged to none other than Grimmjow._

The following would surprise Ulquiorra. The memory was becoming fuzzy but he was able to catch every gesture and every word of the events coming after the ones he had just seen.

_The Sexta fell to one knee and promptly turned the younger over on his back and held him in his arms. Ulquiorra's dazed eyes looked over his face. The elder's worried eyes betrayed the sadistic grin playing on his lips. _

"_Grimm…jow," the Cuatro breathed out, for the elder's ears only. In a way, he was demanding that the aqua-eyed Arrancar release him but Grimmjow wasn't about to do __**that **__anytime soon. The pale younger could hear more steps coming their way. _

"_Ulquiorra," said a voice that was unmistakably Aizen's. _

"_What's wrong with him?" Gin questioned with utmost curiosity in his voice. __**This**__ was when things went from bad…to __**worse.**__ Grimmjow stood, Ulquiorra in tow, and forced the younger to put an arm around his neck. The Sexta grinned smugly. _

"_Poor bastard's probably tired," he teased, knowing full-well that the younger wouldn't respond in his current condition. "I'll watch over him 'til he gets better." _

Was Ulquiorra the _only one_ to notice Grimmjow's unusual willingness towards being_ kind_ this day? Or had every other Espada been living under a rock for the past several _months_ or so? He brushed that thought off for now and forced the memory to continue on.

_The two Espada's walked out of the meeting hall, one far more eager than the other. Ulquiorra stumbled several times and probably would've collapsed again, had Grimmjow not been there to act as support. Grimmjow's hand soon found its way to the younger's hip, forcing the Cuatro to restrain himself from widening his eyes when the blue-haired Arrancar squeezed the spot and let out a silent growl, audible to only Ulquiorra, that indicated his pleased attitude towards the turnout of events. Ulquiorra wanted badly to run away or cero the other but his body was refusing him cooperation, forcing him to fall into whatever would happen. Eventually, the Cuatro figured his judgment would do the same. _

That was that, Ulquiorra decided. After that, he knew what had happened because of the memories gained outside in the hallway. His emerald eyes opened once again, looking down. He noticed his hand was still placed upon the table's glossy surface. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and allowed the breath to escape past his lips.

Just as his pale hand was about lift itself off the table, it was pinned right back down. Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any worse for him, Ulquiorra's tried to not widen his eyes as he slowly turned his head to his right; his emerald eyes were met with a sadistic grin and a pair of matching blue eyes.

_Oh how I adore you  
Oh how I thirst for you  
Oh how I need you. _

_This can't be happening,_ the Cuatro thought, aggravated. _My luck can't possibly be __**this**__ bad._ Their eyes didn't meet, which was the only reason Grimmjow hadn't yet pulled away. Fortunately for the elder, the ebony-haired Ulquiorra was too preoccupied staring as the sadistic grin that would probably be the end of him someday. It was so taunting and reminded the younger of one-too-many dreams that consisted of the elder, as well as that mental image of him that was seemingly permanent.

"Evening," the elder breathed with his voice rugged and husky.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer."

_Comatose  
I'll never wake up without an overdose of you._

B—L—E—A—C—H

**A/N:** Long chapter, again :D .:celebrates the 2,473 words:. XD Please R&R, constructive criticism ;) no flame's thanks


	7. Damaged Emotions

_**Comatose**_

**Disclaimer:** I Don't Own _BLEACH _or the Song _Comatose_ in Any Way, Shape or Form. _BLEACH_ is Rightfully Copyrighted to Tite Kubo and the Song, _Comatose, _is rightfully Copyrighted to Skillet.

**Rating: **Mature Due to Sexual Themes, Alcohol Usage, Crude Language, Angst and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy.

**A/N:** Comment, faves, and alerts have made me a happy writer :) thanks so much!

B—L—E—A—C—H

_I don't want to live  
I don't want to breathe  
'les I feel you next to me  
you take the pain I feel  
waking up to you never felt so real  
I don't want to sleep  
I don't want to dream  
'cause my dreams don't comfort me  
The way you make me feel  
Waking up to you never felt so real.  
_

That sadistic grin, so wide and disturbing, enticed and distressed Ulquiorra to no end. It suited the Sexta well, with his psychotic nature and enjoyment in others pain, including his own. A sadist _and_ a masochist; the Cuatro had to wonder if that was even possible. The image of a bloody Grimmjow, grinning like a Cheshire cat, came into his mind and he looked away from those sharpened teeth, eyes closing, pushing the thoughts away. He then spoke, wanting to hear the others voice; wanting to talk to _someone._

"You used me," he mumbled, aggravation hinted in his voice. "Used me and rejected me _three times._ It's like _you_ called_ me_ trash and walked out on me…and you haven't even said it, _once,_ to my face. What more do you want from me, Jeagerjaques?" he tried to maintain his stoic personality, failing somewhat with jumbled emotions wanting to make themselves known, lusting to make the elder know _exactly_ what he'd done to Ulquiorra's mindset. How badly he had damaged him.

The Cuatro had no interest in life if it meant being treated like this; like _trash._ Used, rejected, in no way cared for; he was just there for the Sexta's amusement, desire and pleasure. If the other Espada didn't have any feeling for him then Ulquiorra was as good as useless. He only wanted that from the elder, to feel like there was more reason behind these violations other than just lust. If there was none, he wished the aqua-eyed man could just leave him alone so he could try and forget this whole mess and return to being the dutiful Espada he should be.

"I couldn't have _possibly_ hurt your feelings, could I?" Grimmjow questioned with an obscene amount of sarcasm attached to his voice. That smug behavior bothered Ulquiorra but he didn't show it and remained with his eyes away from the other, hoping he'd speak more. "Besides," he continued teasingly. "You should be accustomed to being used, since your Aizen's little lapdog."

"That's different," Ulquiorra countered immediately. "Aizen-sama doesn't _use_ me the way you do. You seek nothing more than to fulfill desire and pleasure. At least Aizen has dignity and is fighting towards a certain goal. You do nothing but take advantage of my existence for instant gratification."

"Che'," came the Sexta's familiar, annoyed respond. "You should just be glad one of us actually _wants_ you around," he told him, voice upset and disappointed with the Cuatro's attitude. "How else am I supposed to get my kicks?" he questioned, voice switching to a grin and playfulness. Ulquiorra inhaled deeply and set the breath free, hanging his head somewhat. Higher-ranking or not, Ulquiorra _did_ have to admit that some the others didn't particularly like him.

Somewhat lost in his own thoughts, the younger didn't feel when the Sexta began leaning his lips closer to the pale, exposed neck of the Cuatro. It was when the blue-haired Espada began snaking his left arm around his waist that the higher-ranking Arrancar finally snapped out of his train of thought. He quickly pulled his hand away from the other, intending to slap or punch the elder. However, Grimmjow was quicker, managing to turn the younger's body to face him and pin _both_ of the emerald-eyed Espada's pale hands on the table while their bodies came into contact, yet again. Ulquiorra didn't dare make eye-contact, opting to hang his head instead. If the Sexta looked into his eyes, it was possibly, and most probable, that he'd leave. Right now, he didn't want that to happen.

"What do you want from me?" the Cuatro asked once more. "To continue using me? 'Give me a taste of my own medicine,' as they say? Did me calling you trash truly bother you so much?"

"You're so clouded by your own stupidity that you don't even realize the deeper point," Grimmjow responded with a smirk. "You're partially right; I grew tired of seeing your emotionless face the same exact way every day; never-changing, never different. Using you like this was the only way to get you to actually feel like lesser than the rest for us. Get it, Ulquiorra? For once…

"_You're_ below _me._"

The younger widened his eyes slightly. He was about to respond when the other beat him to it.

"Maybe you do get it, since you haven't looked me in the eye once since I got here," he explained, somewhat disappointed. "You don't have to keep them to yourself."

"I…" Ulquiorra found his voice but it promptly left him as soon as he tried to speak. He was still trying to absorb Grimmjow's logic towards using him, treating him like trash, and taking advantage of him. It was _because_ of his monotonous personality that this happened. In the end, it was his own fault for treating _everyone_ _else_, including Grimmjow, like trash. Deeming them unworthy, sending a cero to them, or simply walking out with an unimpressed look upon his pale face; believing his high-ranking truly _did_ make him better then everyone else.

"What?" Grimmjow demanded, his aqua eyes scrutinizing. Ulquiorra heard him but remained silent for a few more moments. Was everything he'd seen in Grimmjow's eyes…a _lie?_ Or worse; a figment of his own imagination, the part of him that wanted so badly to believe that maybe, just maybe, the Sexta had some other feeling towards him other than lust. He forced his new emotions back and tried to remember something he should've drilled into his head a long time ago.

Grimmjow regrets nothing.

Sleeping with the younger, damaging his emotions, he didn't regret it at all. Ulquiorra should've known that. Even so, it still hurts. It hurts to know that man he fell in love with cared for him less than a piece of used tissue paper, just as the younger once had cared less for the Sexta. Ulquiorra really did feel like trash now. He found his voice yet again and spoke.

"I don't…I don't want you to leave…" his voice was tiny, barely audible, almost as if he was hoping Grimmjow wouldn't hear him. The elder widened his eyes slightly but returned to his intense, scrutinizing stare.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked nonchalantly. The Cuatro stayed silent for several minutes, somewhat aggravated that the elder had heard his silent response. At the same time, he was grateful to release some of the pressure.

"Every time our eyes have met," Ulquiorra began, voice, once again, barely above a whisper. "You leave. I don't want that, at least not now." There was a short pause and, once again, the elder widened his eyes, surprised at the statement.

"You noticed it too…" Grimmjow mumbled, thinking aloud. The Cuatro looked up slightly.

"What?" he asked him, wondering what the Sexta had said. Grimmjow growled lowly.

"Nothing," he brushed it off and tried to make contact with the emerald eyes currently hidden behind ebony strands of hair. "Though, I do have to wonder why it is you don't want me to leave. Did this mess truly confuse you so much?" He grinned and Ulquiorra found himself with wide eyes at the comment. Luckily, Grimmjow didn't notice but the younger was surprised. He didn't think his emotions were showing but Grimmjow seemed to have caught some of them, apparently.

"Because," the Cuatro decided to explain, managing to keep his voice rather even. "I'm tired of feeling like this and having no one to say it to. You're the only one…and you don't even care."

_Breathing life  
Waking up _

_My eyes  
Open up.  
_

Ulquiorra finally looked up to the aqua eyes before him, eyes looking more downcast than usual. Although he hid his surprise well enough, the younger noticed it again; the feeling behind Grimmjow's eyes that he, at first, could not place but eventually made himself believe it was regret, up until now. However, his point of view reversed once more, as he saw that emotion, yet again, in the bright blue eyes of the Sexta. They looked nervous and also sad, melancholic even. They were questioning Ulquiorra as to why he would say something so…_untruthful._

That comment _hurt_ Grimmjow. Hurt him more than the younger realized. His aqua eyes had widened at that remark, because, maybe, he realized he actually _did_ go too far for once. He fled from Ulquiorra when he looked into his eyes for a reason; because he _did_ regret it, he _did_ feel bad about what he'd done. Because he used a dirty trick that only proved that he _wanted_ Ulquiorra, in more ways than one. Because, maybe…

He loved him, too.

The Sexta pulled away and took a few steps back, his eyes never leaving Ulquiorra's emerald ones. The Cuatro broke contact with him after several moment of silence and stood up straight, walking past Grimmjow, intending to leave and put this behind him, eventually. However, the elder grabbed his arm before he could. The pale Arrancar didn't look to him but stopped right in his place.

"Ulquiorra," the blue-haired Espada said silently. "I…I do care and…I…" he stopped there, not knowing what to say. His voice sounded apologetic

"When you're willing to apologize," the Cuatro told him sternly as he pulled his arm away harshly. "Maybe then I'll believe that." He continued walking, leaving Grimmjow to stare at his back as it walked out of the large room. When he was out of the meeting hall, out of the Sexta's sight, Ulquiorra allowed his feelings to release, ever so slightly. A tiny tear escaped from his right eye, following the cyan tattoo upon his face precisely.

_Comatose  
I'll never wake up without an overdose of you.  
_

B—L—E—A—C—H

**A/N:** I think like half of you were expecting fluff, eh? .:nervous grin:. Sorry, but you get angst instead :D Please R&R, constructive criticism, no flames ;) thanks! P.S. Ugh, short chapter =.= I apologize; I think the next one will be longer ;) on the bright side, I got like three verses in XD


	8. Forgiving Feelings

_**Comatose**_

**Disclaimer:** I Don't Own _BLEACH _or the Song _Comatose_ in Any Way, Shape or Form. _BLEACH_ is Rightfully Copyrighted to Tite Kubo and the Song, _Comatose, _is rightfully Copyrighted to Skillet.

**Rating: **Mature Due to Sexual Themes, Alcohol Usage, Crude Language, Angst and Yaoi/Shounen-Ai/GuyxGuy.

**A/N: **Yay for updates! :D

**WARNING:** This chapter is rather lemon-ish. _Major_ warning here because of the sexual content/suggestiveness; you've been warned.

B—L—E—A—C—H

Ulquiorra should've seen this coming He should've seen this coming from the moment this…this _mess_ had started!

It had been a few days since he'd last seen Grimmjow—_four,_ to be exact. Not that he was counting. Ok, maybe he was. Maybe. That wasn't the point; however, the point was that the other had _lied_ to him, saying he cared. He couldn't trust the man as far as he could cero him.

This little fact shouldn't bother the younger, though. He should've expected as much. Grimmjow is crude, disrespectful, _appalling,_ and sadistic. Why should the Cuatro Espada of the Arrancar care if someone like _that_ cared at all for him? He set free a breath he didn't know he was holding and closed his eyes. Maybe he cared because he _liked_ those qualities.

As he lay there on his bed, legs curled into his chest and arms wrapped around the pillow his head was laying on and hollow mask discarded, he realized how much this whole experience had changed his attitude towards the Sexta, how much it had changed himself. Another breath was set free and he was suddenly realizing how, for some reason, his shirt felt like it was trying to squeeze the life out of him. He didn't even feel comfortable in his _own_ clothes; more proof of how bad the situation had made him. He sat up and pulled off his jacket, defeated and unwilling to try and fight back against his own body. He laid the article of clothing next to him on the bed and reached up to rub the back of his neck, closing his eyes and trying to relax his still-jumbled mind.

When he opened his eyes again, hand still on the back of his neck, the emerald gems in his head landed right on the window of his room. For several moments, he simply stared at the gray sands outside the dark, always-midnight sky, and the beautiful, pale moon. His hand slid down to his lap and he leaned forward on his knees, head cocking slightly. He stood, grabbed a chair and placed it next to the window, opening it afterwards and letting the cool breezes tickle his bare skin. It was intoxicating; his head leaned back slightly and his eyes closed yet again as he took deep inhales of air.

When his eyes opened again, he allowed his body to sink into the chair carefully, his eyes staring out into the black and white world before him. He leaned forward and laid his arms on the windowsill, leaning his head upon his pale arms afterwards. Yet again, he closed his eyes and allowed the breezes from outside to play with his hair and give his skin goose bumps. It didn't bother him; it was comforting, actually. His breaths were even and gentle; the only sound that could be heard in his room.

_I don't want to live  
I don't want to breathe  
'les I feel you next to me  
you take the pain I feel  
waking up to you never felt so real  
I don't want to sleep  
I don't want to dream  
'cause my dreams don't comfort me  
The way you make me feel  
Waking up to you never felt so real. _

His few moments of peace were short-lived. Just like the day he'd gone out to walk around Las Noches, his mind was, once again, clouded with thoughts of Grimmjow. He kept his eyes closed and tried to ignore them. Easier said than done, he discovered. He was fighting a losing battle against his mind, which just didn't _want_ to stay blank. It _craved_ those thoughts of the elder. Defeated yet again, Ulquiorra allowed Grimmjow to invade his mind, once more.

It wasn't long before the pale, young man found himself in a sea of confused thoughts, as he had found himself many times before after the first incident. Now, however, it was a little easier to understand some of the emotions. That didn't make this any easier, however. He wanted Grimmjow here, apologizing to him and telling him that he really _did_ care. He wanted his touch, hungered for his voice, and thirsted for his presence.

His eyes clenched tightly, fighting back the strong emotions that wanted to, once again, make themselves known. His breath became shaky as his eyes trembled with sadness. He inhaled deeply and held the breath for several seconds before letting it go, forcing back those feelings for now and finally opening his emerald eyes and looking out to the landscape before him. His eyes sparkled from the glowing moon above and the moisture that wanted to escape seconds ago. The black and white world outside; it was depressing and colorless, reflecting his current attitude.

The door to his room knocked a few times and Ulquiorra sat up looking over his shoulder. He wondered who could be visiting him. Thinking it may have been Aizen or some other Espada with a message, he answered, not caring of his current shirtless and mask-less appearance.

"Enter," he told whoever it was, voice sounding rather monotonous and stoic. He watched the silver knob turn and the white door soon cracked open. To his surprise, even if he didn't show it, the visitor was Grimmjow. His face was unreadable, lips serious instead of curved into that sadistic grin and aqua eyes half-lidded but piercing. For several, long moments, it was silent between them as their eyes remained locked, staring at each other for what seemed like forever.

Ulquiorra finally broke contact and turned back to his window, leaning forward on his elbows again but keeping is head up. He heard his door close and the click of it, indicating Grimmjow had locked it.

"I don't want to see you," he lied, rather convincingly however.

"You said that if I apologized," Grimmjow began explaining, surprising Ulquiorra with his words. "That you'd believe what I said in the meeting hall."

"I said maybe," Ulquiorra retorted bitterly, fists clenching tightly and his eyes doing the same and trembling with slight annoyance. Yes, he wanted Grimmjow here but, now that he was present, he was annoyed that it had taken the other so long to come forward. That and, obviously, he hadn't forgiven him for everything he'd done to him. Some wounds just don't heal with time, especially if the other who caused them refused to help.

"Fine," Grimmjow agreed. "That just means there's still a chance you'll forgive me." Ulquiorra's eyes perked slightly before falling back to their usual state as he looked over his shoulder to the blue-haired Espada, who was smiling gently. He tried to keep his breathing normal; that small, gentle smile was absolutely breathtaking. His head turned back around and he stood from his place and stood up straight.

Unbeknownst to him, Grimmjow's eyes had widened and he was staring, admiring Ulquiorra's pale skin in the moonlight, mesmerized by the contours of his back and the way light fell into them.

The younger turned around, seemingly in slow motion, and before either knew it, they had locked eyes once again. Grimmjow's were gentle and begging for forgiveness while Ulquiorra's seemed emotionless, hiding behind them a barrage of confused feelings and thoughts that wanted to escape past his pale and black lips. The younger managed to hold himself back, opting instead to walk forward and grab the jacket he'd taken off minutes ago. Not caring of the fact that he didn't have on his hollow mask, he walked around his bed, about to pull on his shirt. He tried to not make any eye-contact with the Sexta.

"I don't want to hear anything from you," he said sternly. Before he could continue, or even pull his arm through _one_ of the sleeves, however, he felt Grimmjow's right, muscular arm come across his pale chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. The younger tried to keep his breaths even and restrained his eyes from widening. Their skin was touching, making contact and exchanging heat. Unexpected enough to throw him off his train of thought, that's for sure.

"You're lying," Grimmjow mumbled carefully and Ulquiorra was surprised that the elder had seen passed his ruse. He was sure he hadn't been _that_ obvious about it. It made him curious as to how the blue-eyed Espada knew. Had he…_learned_ how to read Ulquiorra? If Grimmjow was willing to put in _that much_ effort then maybe the younger could give him a little, too. Besides, learning Ulquiorra's personality wasn't exactly the easiest task.

He turned his head to look the elder in the eye and his arms fell to his sides immediately, his jacket falling to the ground. They stayed perfectly still for several seconds, staring into each others deep eyes and getting lost in them. Ulquiorra wanted this to last, for time to just stop for them so they could stay looking into each other forever. He was tempted to fall into the Sexta's embrace but he refrained from doing so. Then, something unexpected happened…

He got back another memory…

_The two stood facing each other, the tiniest of gaps between them. The elder of the two was staring deeply into the emerald eyes before him, admiring the brightness and how well they contrasted against the pale skin of the person they belonged to. A tanner hand reached up to touch the cold, pale face, tracing the cyan markings gently before his face began leaning forward. His lips ghosted over the other's lips but he opted, instead, to brush his lips along the younger's cheek and slide them down to his neck. His hand, the one tracing the markings upon the Cuatro's face, did the same. _

_Ulquiorra, whose hollow mask had been discarded minutes ago, didn't fight back. Instead, he moved his head slightly to allow Grimmjow more access and even closed his eyes, looking as if he was enjoying the feeling of the other man's lips over his skin. This was mainly because he __**was**__ enjoying it; every second of it, to be precise. The Sexta's hand eventually made it to the zipper of the pale Arrancar's jacket. He grinned when his fingertips made contact with the small, cold metal. _

_Keeping his lips connected with the younger's skin, by kissing or gently biting him, he began pulling at the small metal, allowing it to go lower and lower until, finally, the two sides pulled away, granting the blue-eyed Espada full-access to the pale chest of the Cuatro. Grimmjow's face then slowly switched sides while his hand slid down to Ulquiorra's chest, his other hand rising to tangle itself within the younger's ebony strands of hair. The green-eyed Arrancar opened his eyes halfway before adjusting his head slightly, once again. The blue-haired Sexta took the opportunity to continue kissing the pale, exposed neck while his other hand explored the Cuatro's upper body. His fingers trailed through every contour of the pale chest, memorizing each of the younger's abs. _

_Both hands soon reached up to the upper-ranking Espada's shoulder's and, as he pulled away and brushed his lips against the other's, staring deeply into his emerald eyes, he carefully pushed the piece of clothing off the younger's pale shoulders, allowing it to slide down his arms and fall onto the ground below. The elder's left hand came up and caressed the Cuatro's cheek before sliding down to the back of the younger's neck, making their foreheads connect and forcing their eyes to stay locked. _

It ended there. Ulquiorra suspected that the memory following the one he was just granted was when Grimmjow had pulled him closer and later pinned him to the wall. He tried to not shudder at that thought as he broke eye-contact with the elder suddenly and pulled away from him, stepping back and eventually reaching his bed, where he sat down, hands at his sides. His green eyes looked up to Grimmjow's somewhat confused ones. It was silent for a few seconds before he spoke.

"You're right," he told him shamelessly. "I _am_ lying. So, go on; say what you need to say to me." Grimmjow widened his eyes somewhat before they fell and he walked forward and took a seat next to Ulquiorra on his bed. He looked to the younger and smiled gently. Ulquiorra's expression didn't change and the elder's smile faded as he looked to the door. His arm reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, much how the Cuatro did several minutes ago.

"Where can I start?" the Sexta thought aloud.

"An apology would be nice," Ulquiorra responded and Grimmjow glanced over at him. "Afterwards, you can explain _why_ you did it all." The Sexta's hand slid down to his lap and he smiled carefully. It lasted only a few moments before fading, his face suddenly severe with emotion as he hung his head sadly.

"Ulquiorra," his voice began lowly. "I…I don't know how I can really say it…but I _am_ sorry…I…" he shrugged loudly, trying to choose his words carefully. "I…I apologize for what I did…" he choked out finally, eyes downcast and voice matching them.

"You said you did it because you wanted me to feel inferior. You succeeded, so you really shouldn't be sorry, should you?" there was a certain bitterness to the younger's voice that stung Grimmjow when he spoke.

"That's…_partially_ true," the blue-eyed Espada clarified, causing Ulquiorra to widen his eyes slightly, for only a moment. "And I regret that much, too."

"…Partially?" Ulquiorra found himself asking, wondering what other reason the Sexta would do this to him. Grimmjow seemed to understand before looking up and responding.

"I…" His face turned a tint of crimson as he struggled with the words. "I just…" He sighed and looked away again, embarrassed by what he'd say, obviously. "I wanted you…badly. I thought the feelings would leave but…every time I saw you, I realized how much I wanted you to be mine. I thought…I thought that by taking you the way I did…the feelings really would go away, finally. But…" he truly was fighting with what he was saying. Ulquiorra could see that and it made his anger towards the other reduce.

"That night," he began once again and a satisfied, _perverted _grin pulled at his features as he seemed to recall the heat of those moments. "For _one_ night, you didn't see me as trash," he was smiling at this point, smiling happily instead of smirking psychotically. He was also leaning closer trying to make his point. Ulquiorra leaned back slightly but allowed him to continue. "Not to mention, you actually _looked_ to me with some kind of emotion other than 'unimpressed.' And…I liked it," he finished.

The Cuatro Espada silently swallowed a lump that had made its way to his throat. He was slightly intimidated but he looked through the elder's eyes momentarily. He understood why it was that the Sexta had _enjoyed_ that night, why it had _enticed_ him so much. He wanted _more_ from the younger and, in the state he had been, he had given the elder _exactly_ what he wanted. The younger had submitted to him, and that made the Sexta feel superior.

There was more, however. Ulquiorra, that night, gave Grimmjow emotion and feeling, by giving himself to the other and showing expressions that would, otherwise, not be found on his pale face.

"It started out as just lust," the elder continued, breaking the Cuatro out of his thoughts to look back to the blue-haired Espada. "I just…_wanted_ you. But, after that night…I started thirsting…_craving_ for you to look at me the same way you did, _treat_ me the way you did. I really did want you for myself, so no one else could touch you. Maybe I was asking for too much but I didn't care. My feelings for you…every time our skin touched, those feelings grew stronger, and I wanted that feeling more each time.

"After a couple of times of looking for you, getting what you referred to as my 'instant gratification,' I really was just looking for a quick fix; maybe make the feelings go away by getting some satisfaction. Not that I was ever really able to get that far," the blue-eyed Arrancar said and Ulquiorra momentarily intervened.

"Because of when you looked into my eyes, right?" he asked the Sexta curiously. The elder nodded once.

"Like I said in the meeting hall…you noticed it too," he explained, eyes not meeting the younger's emerald ones. Ulquiorra shrugged quietly.

"I thought I'd heard say something like that…" he mumbled, audible enough for Grimmjow's ears. The elder faced away, eyes closed.

"Every time…every time I looked right into your eyes…I saw everything I did…and _what_ I did to get it. It wasn't fair of me to demand that from you without earning it, and take advantage of you while you could barely stand on your own two feet. So…when that came to mind, I couldn't bear to look at you, much less lay a finger on you," he explained, voice distressed in sadness and deep emotion.

"So you fled every time," Ulquiorra said. "Because…it hurt you. It actually pained you to see me after what you'd done." Grimmjow's aqua eyes reopened and he continued.

"It didn't just hurt me," he clarified, his eyes looking up into the younger's emerald ones. There was a great deal of pain behind his aqua-colored iris's; pain, regret and sadness. Surprisingly enough, it made Ulquiorra's sympathy towards him increase, even after everything. The elder continued.

"It _killed_ me."

The Cuatro Espada tried to not widen his eyes, especially now in Grimmjow's presence, but this small confession did, indeed, shock him somewhat. However, this whole experience had its effects on the younger, too. Effects he would finally make Grimmjow understand.

"Do you…" he began with voice low as he hung his head and held his left arm with his right. "Do you realize what you put me though? How much this…_changed_ me and…hurt me?" he asked, voice _almost_ quivering. "Do you have any idea how drastically you changed my thoughts? How much you…" he paused and clutched his eyes shut momentarily before reopening them and continuing.

"_Damaged_ me?"

"I know," Grimmjow responded, his voice small as well.

"No, you don't," the younger said sternly, causing the elder to look up, slightly thrown off. "You _used_ me," Ulquiorra explained. "Made _me_ feel like trash because I thought you didn't care…and I wanted so much for that to be a lie. I wanted to know that you _did_ care and _did_ regret it. I _wanted_ it to hurt you," he said, the emotion behind his voice making itself known with each new word spoken.

The elder hung his head low.

"You're right," he agreed. "I can't imagine how that must've felt. But, it _did_ hurt me and, I realized, that I _did_…_do_ care for you…so much. And, even though I can't fully grasp what it is I did to you…I'm sorry I did it; I'm sorry if I hurt you and made you think you were worthless. That wasn't my intention. You're far from worthless, especially to me."

_Oh how I adore you  
waking up to you never felt so real  
Oh how I thirst for you  
Waking up to you never felt so real  
Oh how I adore you_

_(Comatose)  
Oh...  
The way you make me feel  
Waking up to you never felt so real. _

The younger hung his head at these words, new feelings taking over his system. These were different, however; they weren't negative emotions and they didn't make him feel like rocks were being piled onto his shoulders. In fact, they felt as if they were taking _away_ that feeling, making him feel lighter. It was different but it made him feel rejuvenated. They were calming, these emotions.

He began to bring his head up once more but, when he did, he found Grimmjow's lips hovering dangerously close to his own. His emerald eyes widened slightly and he immediately pulled away, leaning almost fully on his back, on his elbows, to get away from those tempting lips. Grimmjow's widened his eyes at the sudden disappearance of the Cuatro's lips. Ulquiorra's emerald eyes, however, were glaring now, angrily, demanding an explanation for this unexpected gesture.

"What?" The elder asked curiously.

"You do all this and I _still_ don't remember that faithful night, Jeagerjaques," Ulquiorra said sternly, expressing his displeasure by using the elder's last name instead. "You don't _deserve_ me, _especially_ after all the horrible things you've done."

"I figured you'd look over it," Grimmjow said, face fading to slight annoyance.

"I still need time to recover," the Cuatro responded, looking away. "Besides, I never actually said I forgave you, Sexta." Grimmjow looked rather displeased. But he grinned playfully after a few thoughtful minutes, remembering how the chemical he had given Ulquiorra worked and how the younger would be able to get memories back quicker. His mischievous, cat-like eyes looked over to the younger, which was still looking away from him. Grimmjow decided to use this to his advantage.

Carefully, he crawled over Ulquiorra's body, grinning as his legs straddled the younger just below his pale hips. Ulquiorra, of which, noticed too late when the blue-haired Espada was hovering his face over his own.

"Alright then," Grimmjow agreed. "Let me help you."

"Grimmjow, what do you think you're doing?" the upper-ranking Arrancar questioned, trying to keep his voice steady. The elder didn't reply. Instead, he slid his lips past Ulquiorra's and began teasing the Cuatro's neck, biting, kissing, or even licking him. The pale Espada held back several gasps that wanted escape past his lips. His teeth and eyes clenched tightly, holding back the feelings of arousal.

Interestingly enough, tiny flashbacks made their way into his head with each act of affection. He heard Grimmjow growl, pleased, and continued, making more memories return to Ulquiorra's mind.

_The younger of the two gasped loudly, clutching the blue-haired man over him at the nape and refusing to let go, his nails almost breaking skin. His breaths were heavy and deliberate, outlining many of his collarbones with each intake of air. _

Ulquiorra leaned his head back, allowing the elder more space on his neck. The Sexta, of course, took advantage, increasing the Cuatro's already-racing heartbeat and slightly heavy breaths. He allowed him this blessing for several more minutes before he looked back up into the elder's eyes. It was obvious that the younger's breath was heavier than the man above him. In fact, the Sexta was breathing easily, grinning teasingly with a small, enticed purring resonating from the back of his throat.

_The Cuatro wrapped an arm around the Sexta's neck as he lay over him. Their eyes stared into each other for a long time. Grimmjow's were desperate and __**hungry **__while Ulquiorra's were hazed over in drunken confusion and also in a bit of a cloud of lust and thirst for the other. The blue-eyed Arrancar let out a hot breath and grinned, exposing his canines. The pupils of his aqua eyes dilated in the darkness, desperate to see the face before them clearly._

The memories may not have been in exact order but the younger didn't care at the moment. The younger Arrancar truly was enjoying this far more than he should be but that didn't matter either. He was in the heat of the moment, exploring new emotions and experiencing new feelings. His pale and black lips let out a long breath he didn't know he had been holding and carefully reached up to glide his fingers across Grimmjow's cheekbone, keeping the other entranced with his emerald eyes and silken touch. Or was Ulquiorra the one entranced? He didn't know anymore.

_The younger reached up to the Sexta's face as he lay over him, gliding a pale hand across his cheekbone. He momentarily admired the invisible trail his fingers left before looking into the blue eyes before him. Nervous, shaky, and willing to be in this situation, he dared to lean his face closer, gently kissing the teal tattoo on the elder's left side. Afterwards, his mismatched lips trailed lower, until they reached the Sexta's lower jaw. Another kiss was planted there and, in the next second or two, their lips were ghosting over each other._

Their faces were inching closer together, each tilting their face in their respective direction to allow their lips to fit perfectly into each other, should they meet. Ulquiorra's pale, left hand reached up and caressed his lower jaw, just below the man's hollow mask, and continued back to Grimmjow's nape, gently clutching him there. Their eyes were steadily drooping more and more with each centimeter lost between their lips. However, just when their lips were about to meet, they both stopped. Their eyes looked up into each other for the umpteenth time, staying locked in silence for several long seconds, each feeling an eternity too long.

"Well," Ulquiorra whispered, finally breaking the quiet between them. "I'm waiting," his voice sounded rather discontented. Grimmjow grinned in response.

"With pleasure," he told the Cuatro eagerly, immediately pulling his lips into the younger's immediately after. Ulquiorra's green eyes fell closed the moment their lips met, as did Grimmjow's aqua ones. The upper-ranking Espada teased his comrade, refusing him entry past his lips for several seconds. However, Grimmjow was persistent, managing to force his way through, whether he had permission from the younger or not. Ulquiorra's pale hand slid down the Sexta's neck and he leaned back on it again, his other hand immediately taking its place, reaching up and caressing the elder's mask-less side.

Their tongues fought, wrestling one another for control over the other. It was a seemingly never-ending battle, especially with each male's stubbornness and willingness to fight. Ulquiorra slowly leaned down, fully on his back, using his now-free arm to grip the elder above him at the back of his neck once more. However, his pale hands didn't stop there. They tangled themselves in the Sexta's blue strands of hair, gently clawing at his scalp with his nails.

In the next moments, something interesting happened. As the two Espada's continued in their battle for dominance, Ulquiorra's mind was fighting with visions that seemed so distant before and are now able to make themselves known. Ulquiorra realized that, although this whole experience was _extremely_ pleasing to Grimmjow, the elder hadn't only done it for himself.

_Let me help you,_ the younger recalled the Sexta saying minutes ago. He was doing this to _make_ the younger's memory return. Surprisingly enough, it was working rather well. The memories flowed in, beginning right where the last one he received had ended…

_As their lips hovered over each other, their breaths mingling before them, their different-colored eyes met and locked. Grimmjow grinned for two seconds, admiring the emerald orbs that resided within the Cuatro's head. Their contrast against his pale, silver skin intrigued and tempted the Sexta to no end. He absolutely adored that deep difference. Even if the two varied, they still, somehow, just fit._

_Not bothering to put it off any longer, Grimmjow finally did what he'd been tempted to do on so many occasions prior. His lips met with the Cuatro's quickly, in a passionate, desperate kiss. It was needy but, at the same time, relieved. Ulquiorra, judgment lost ages ago, merely closed his eyes and returned the gesture and fell into the only other thing he had left in his body, aside from his intoxicated confusion; lust. He leaned back fully and used both his hands to feel the Sexta's scalp and slowly slide his arms around the others waist, hands placed on his muscular back. _

_The Cuatro's fingers traced along each contour, following the elder's back from top to bottom. Just above the blue-eyed Arrancar's hips was where he stopped and proceeded upwards again. Grimmjow, forced to pull his lips away from the younger, leaned his head back slightly a few times; shivers traveled up and down his spine from the Cuatro's soft touch. He decided this, alone, was quite an embarrassment, which meant he now wanted revenge. He let out a low growl from the back of his throat and exposed his sharpened canines to the younger, the confused tilt of the pale young man's head indication enough that he had heard and seen the gesture. _

_The elder Arrancar leaned his face into the crook of Ulquiorra's neck, slowly taking a small bit of flesh between his teeth. This elicited a small, pained sound from the younger Espada. This only excited Grimmjow, who continued to bite the skin offered, as well as lick it or passionately kiss it. The bites were hard enough to be slightly painful but gentle enough to not leave any major marks upon the silver neck. This little game amused Grimmjow for a good while. Afterwards, however, he wanted more. _

Ulquiorra had a feeling he knew what was coming next but he continued his current session with Grimmjow, allowing his memories to be returned as well. The elder's hand was placed upon his bicep, slowly and deliberately gliding down his pale chest, feeling every one of his muscles, tracing the contours perfectly until the tanner fingers reached the younger's hips. A tiny, almost inaudible whimper-like sound came from his throat. The younger hoped the Sexta hadn't heard it. Unfortunately for the upper-ranking Arrancar, the male above him heard the sound and grinned teasingly against his lips.

_After several awkward movements and shuffles on the bed and beneath the covers, Grimmjow had the younger Arrancar right where he wanted him; below him and bare of any clothes. His muscular arms wrapped around the silvery body beneath him, their chests rubbing against each other and sweat mingling. He buried his face into the Cuatro's neck once again, kissing the soft flesh gently, almost as if he were apologizing for what he'd do. His grip around the pale body tightened and the younger could almost __**swear**__ he heard the Sexta mumble something under a breath. _

"_I'm sorry."_

_And the elder took the Cuatro as his; a gasp immediately escaping passed Ulquiorra's lips. His pale hands, which were still around Grimmjow's waist, suddenly clutched the skin tightly. The Sexta growled lowly at his own pain but held back the yelp, knowing that the one before him must've felt ten times worse. Even so, he continued fulfilling his desires, turning one of his most persistent fantasies into a reality. That, alone, pushed the negative thoughts to the back of his mind, the positive, pleasurable thoughts taking their place._

"_Grimm…Grimmjow…" the upper-ranking Arrancar struggled to say, his nails clawing down the Sexta's back, leaving behind red ribbons of skin that were almost broken beneath the pressure. The elder didn't respond to his name. He took in a deep inhale of breath and set it free seconds later. Struggled or not, Grimmjow found the younger's voice to be extremely attractive. A tiny smirk found its way onto his features. _

_After going at it for a while, the atmosphere between them changed. The air was heated; their skin was almost dripping with sweat and previous whimpers of pain had turned into cries of pleasure. Their breaths were heavy and stung their throats somewhat with each new inhale of air. The younger of the two gasped loudly, clutching the blue-haired man over him at the nape and refusing to let go, his nails almost breaking skin. His breaths were heavy and deliberate, outlining many of his collarbones with each intake of air._

"_Grimmjow!" Ulquiorra's voice cried out, in a manner very much unlike him. It stung his throat more so than he would've liked but, at the moment, it didn't matter. The elder, however, smiled widely in response to this unexpected outburst. The younger leaned his head back, clenching his teeth tightly and continuing to claw at the Sexta's back. _

Ulquiorra was a bit disappointed to know that he had, _indeed,_ screamed out the elder's name. It quickly passed over as the memory continued and he, himself, was being bitten at the neck, once again, by the blue-haired Espada above him.

_Soon enough, after a few more of Ulquiorra's screams and Grimmjow's low growling, pleased and pained alike, neither could take it anymore. The elder of the two pulled away and merely sat with his hands on either side of Ulquiorra's body, arms shaky. The two were still breathing heavily; sweat glistened off their skin from the moon shining through the nearby window and their bodies felt extremely delicate. Grimmjow allowed his body to collapse next to the Cuatro's, too tired to continue sitting up as he had been. His face lay on his pillow, facing the younger Espada with his eyes currently closed, their deep breaths the only sound that could be heard in the dark room. His right hand ran itself through his hair, momentarily pushing back the blue strands of hair from his face before they came to their original place once again._

_Ulquiorra, of which, put his right arm up next to his head, between him and Grimmjow. He turned his dazed, emerald-eyed face towards the blue-haired other beside him. In that moment, the Sexta's eyes opened halfway and their eyes met once again, staying locked together in a seemingly endless stare. The elder Espada reached his right hand over and awkwardly held his hand with the younger's, their fingers intertwined as well. Surprisingly enough, Ulquiorra tightened his grip in return. Still breathing deeply but inhaling and exhaling through his nostrils now, the Sexta dare not break eye-contact._

_However, he didn't expect that Ulquiorra would be the one to do this, his ebony-haired head leaning back on the pillow and eyes closing, his body shutting down as he fell into a deep slumber, his grip loosening. Unbeknownst to him, Grimmjow merely smiled at this before sliding his fingers out of Ulquiorra's nonexistent grasp, gently moving the younger's limp arm across his own silvery chest. Grimmjow then proceeded on moving his own arm across the pale chest of the Cuatro as well, fingers intertwined once again. From there, he fell asleep beside the pale Arrancar in what Grimmjow could only describe as __**heaven.**_

Their lips had met again during that final remembrance. For a few more seconds, Ulquiorra held the Sexta at his lips before a pale hand reached to his tanner neck and pushed gently, their contrasting lips pulling away with centimeters between them. The elder's taste lingered in his mouth, his smell still fresh in his mind along with the feeling of the other male's lips over his skin. He looked to the aqua eyes above him. They looked willing for more.

"What is it?" Grimmjow questioned with his voice audible to a whisper and suddenly concerned. His head cocked to one side in curiosity, waiting for a response but his eyes looked worried.

"What do you mean?" Ulquiorra questioned, his voice monotonous but with a hint of the same inquisitiveness as the Sexta.

"Your eyes," the elder responded anxiously. The younger reached a hand to his eyes and he could feel some moisture there. He pulled his finger away and could see it glistening lightly. His eyes widened slightly at his own actions; he hadn't even known that he was crying. He wondered what reason he had for crying until he looked up to Grimmjow once more. In that memory, he felt when his arm slid across his chest along with Grimmjow's. It was a subtle feeling but it was there; he remembered it and he realized that, even though the elder was chasing after his instant gratification, he stayed with him after he got it.

Although this should've been known since he found the elder in bed with him the day after but, the gesture and actions counted. It showed that the elder wasn't completely interested in pleasure only; there was feeling behind it all. He grasped his hand and held onto him as they slept together. Even though the elder's position must've changed during the night, since his arm hadn't been around the younger when he awoke, the fact that he even cared to do so in the first place showed affection from the Sexta towards the upper-ranked Arrancar.

"You…" he mumbled carefully, pausing for a few moments before continuing. "You stayed with me." The elder gave him an even more curious look, wordlessly asking what the Cuatro meant with those words. Ulquiorra understood and explained. "After that night," he said, knowing Grimmjow knew which night in particular. "After you took what you wanted…you didn't leave. You stayed with me, even held me while we slept." Grimmjow smiled gently in response, a smile that practically took Ulquiorra's breath away, yet again.

"Of course I did," he replied, wrapping his muscular arms around the younger's body againwhile he lay atop of him, his face burying itself into the younger's neck. "You're absolutely precious when you're asleep," he said, cuddling into the pale neck of the Cuatro, causing said Espada to blush at the words. "Besides," he continued. "I took you as mine; why would I abandon something after taking it? I…" he paused suddenly, his voice becoming nervous as he felt his face flush with the blood quickly making its way to his face. Ulquiorra waited patiently, cocking his head to one side.

"I…love you."

Even if Grimmjow had proven that with his actions, the younger found himself with his emerald eyes wide at hearing it from the other. It was a solid confession; each word, even if small in quantity, was filled with truth and emotion. He froze in his place, muscles stiffening, thoughts and heart racing. Grimmjow looked up to him, worried at the silent response. He leaned up on his elbows to properly look the younger in his green eyes.

His deep blue eyes looked nervous and downcast, wondering if, maybe, he had gone too far, yet again. He looked away, saddened before speaking to the Cuatro again.

"I understand," he said, breaking the younger out of his thoughts. "You…don't care for me after what I did…correct?"

"No," Ulquiorra responded quickly, his hands clutching the other desperately. "I…I do…I'm just surprised, I suppose. Hearing you say that just shook me a little. But I do care for you; much more than you think, probably. I…feel the same about you, actually." It was Grimmjow's turn to widen his eyes as well, looking back to the green eyes beneath him. He smiled suddenly.

"Say it. Please…I want to hear your voice say it," he said, practically begging. The younger looked away momentarily, feeling the deep heat at his cheeks as well. The Sexta admired the red tint across his pale cheeks as he waited patiently, allowing the younger to prepare his voice for the next words he hoped to hear from the other.

"I…" the younger lost his voice the moment he tried to speak. He knew he felt the same towards the elder; why was it so hard to admit it then? Perhaps it was just the new feelings taking control, some positive, some negative. He pushed away the negative things, knowing this was what he wanted. He met Grimmjow's eyes again and tried once more.

"I love you."

His voice was tiny, eyes nervous and lips loose. The elder smiled again and wiped away the remnants of the Cuatro's tears. Afterwards, he lay back down on the younger and snuggled into the flesh at Ulquiorra's neck. The younger Arrancar, of which, let his muscles relax as he wrapped his arms around the Sexta's neck, eyes closing as one of his hands tangling itself within the light blue strands of the elder, gently scraping his scalp. This small act sent shivers down Grimmjow's spine but he enjoyed every second of it.

And after laying in each other grasp for several moments, something interesting happened. The positive, light feelings overtook Ulquiorra completely and his stress from the whole incident dissipated entirely. He was no longer weighed down by that feeling of paranoia or rejection. He could no longer see himself as trash, and he could willingly say the same thing about Grimmjow. As his pale fingers played with the elder's blue hair and traced the contours of his muscular body….

He smiled.

For the first time in his life as an Arrancar, his contrasting lips pulled away to form the smallest and most gentle smiles. His eyes opened halfway and he tightened his grip on the elder, burying his pale face into the man's hair. His eyes fell again and he pressed his lips against the Sexta's forehead, content that, even if the trial to reach this point was painful on both of them, they had done it; made it together. Besides…trials make the heart grow stronger.

B—L—E—A—C—H

**A/N:** Too…long .-. this took like…three days to write D: 6,803 words…but it was well worth it; this story is finally finished! :D I quite like this chapter :3 though, I think I just wrote my first lemon O.o blame my muse, it made me do it! .:Puts hands up in surrender. Gets shot anyway:. Ow…anyway, please R&R, constructive criticism, no flames ;) thanks! I hope anyone whose read has enjoyed!


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